To Plant a Peppermint

Over a month ago,

I lost my first love.

Or,

rather,

he lost me.

Months prior,

I bought him almost everything romantic under the sun.

Most notable would be something I remember quite vividly.

I left for Chicago.

Gone for a week.

While I was there,

I bought him this beautiful little gift at the airport,

just before getting on the plane to go home.

It was expensive,

but I was so madly in love that the price sticker didn't matter.

It was a little jar of peppermint candies,

topped with a red ribbon and a heart balloon.

As soon as I purchased it,

I remember racing through the airport with a smile on my face.

I sat down with the gift in my lap.

I was told that it was ridiculous and overpriced,

but young love is mad.

When I got home,

I placed it on an end table in my living room.

However,

it was then that our love was dying out,

and I didn't even realize that was the case until I write this now.

We didn't see each other in person much outside of school.

Day by day,

my gift sat there.

On that same table.

In that same spot.

All it did was collect dust in the background of my life.

Until the day he dumped me.

On that day,

I was so heartbroken that I had to leave school.

That gift was the first thing I saw when I came home that day.

I couldn't bring myself to throw it away.

A month later,

I discovered that the gift was moved into the guest room.

It was different this time.

Rather than wrapped and concealed,

I discovered it was open.

The jar was half empty,

and the ribbon and balloon were sitting on top of the trash.

I didn't cry.

I didn't scream.

I just stared for a few moments.

I grabbed a mint in my hand,

from the gift he'll never get.

I placed it in the ground and covered it.

Although minuscule,

the burial of the mint follows the burial of us,

all of us.

Our past,

our present,

our future.

The memories,

the gifts,

the moments,

the discussions,

the calls,

the texts,

the anniversaries.

He killed them,

and I buried them.

With this burial,

I hope for something beautiful.

With death comes new life.

New memories,

new gifts,

new moments,

new discussions,

new calls,

new texts,

new anniversaries.

And none of them will come from him.

It's best for me to hold my head up and move on,

rather than reminisce about what once was.

But,

to be able to do that,

I had to plant a peppermint.

If you liked this, please consider subscribing to my page or even leaving a tip. Your support means the world to me so thank you for reading!