i knew i had to do it, no matter how much it hurt. i tried to drink you away, but there are too many poems hidden in wine glasses. i tried to smoke you out and realised your halo shines brighter in the smoky haze. i even tried to forget about you, but apparently, my mind has a heart of its own.
so i decided, ever hopeful, to try something else. i was led into a pleasant-scented dimly lit room by a short, gentle lady who told me to take off my clothes and lie down. i obeyed. she smiled at me, and told me to relax my senses. skeptical as always, i closed my eyes and tried to ignore the picture of you that comes up every time. she started with my eyebrows. her hands were soft, but determined. she pressed into my forehead and slowly started running her hands through my hair. she pressed into my shoulders and i could feel my bones ache from the weight of your smile. she kneaded through every part of my body as if she knew that i was wishing you away. her hands were hurting me, but i didn't complain. i knew this pain was the answer. with every point of pressure, my muscles pulled back, complaining and yelling. but it had to be done. her knuckles bore into my knees, my toes, the fingers, slowly coaxing you out of me. the hot oil spread over me and through me, confusing and convincing. hands roamed over my body trying to erase any signs of you. i must have fallen asleep, or may have been spinning through layers of you, trying to get to that place in me, so far away, that holds you dear.
when i woke up, steamed and showered and blood coursing through my veins with renewed interest, i walked out of the room a new person. a person who didn't even notice that your ring had slipped off my finger, forgotten in a place that i can never return to.