Wednesday, October 1, 2014
A Poem by Liz Egan
When He Leaves You
When he leaves you, he will say, "It's not you, it's me." He will say it is all his fault. He will say
he has changed, there's nothing you can do, things are not the same anymore. He will say he
knows it hurts you now but this will make you happy later.
(You will say, out loud, "Can we please just talk about this?")
He will say his mind is made up. He will say he still
loves you. He will say I hope we can still be friends.
When he leaves you, he will say, "Of course it's you, you crazy bitch!" He will say it is all your
fault. He will say you changed. He will say you are not the girl he married.
(You will say, to yourself, "Well, no. Mostly because I am no longer a girl.")
He will say none of his friends ever liked you. He will say you were
a mistake. He will say he doesn't love you, not anymore.
He will say he is keeping the television, by the way.
He will say don't call me. He will say I don't want to see you again.
When he leaves you, he will say nothing. No explanation, no reason why. When you scream
and cry and thrash on the ground shouting, "Just talk to me!" he will only blink and say, "I
don't know what you want me to say." He will be gone by the time you come home from the
grocery store, arms loaded with the apple juice and Little Debbie snacks and rack of lamb you
know he loves. He will leave you in the bed that smells like him, alone in a hurricane with the
wind rattling the windows and a leak sprung overhead.
Liz Egan holds an MFA in fiction writing from George Mason University. Her writing has been published in ink & coda and Sliced Bread. She teaches writing and directs the writing center at Millsaps College in Jackson, Mississippi.