Perfectionist Rehab

‘Twas the Christmas of 2009,

A box unrequited and wrapped with twine,

Shoulder-length onyx flapped in the breeze,

As the gift passed from him to me.

Embarrassment whooshed past my lips,

“I truly wasn’t expecting this!”

Mahogany glittered in his eyes,

“It was supposed to be a surprise!”

I chuckle as I rest upon the grass,

And loosened the bow that was attached,

To the package now resting on my lap,

I gestured to join me with a tap,

On the wet soil beside my new-found perch,

Nestled together beneath an old birch.

“Rip into it! I want to see your face!”

Gently mocking my slow pace.

Reverent and cautious.

Nervous and nauseous.

Pull away the string, tear through the wrapping,

Discarded and in the wind flapping.

I glance at the cardboard discreet,

It revealed nothing as to what was beneath.

“Come on, open it!” he laughed,

Out of the box, the gift now unwrapped.

I swallowed. I stared, barely blinking.

What on Earth was he thinking?

I held before me a bronze grotesque,

A broken and bloody Jesus statuette.

“Well? Don’t you love it?” arm wrapped around,

I wished I’d be swallowed up by the ground.

Confused, repulsed, and disturbed,

What did I do to this deserve?

We dated only two weeks,

Before this gesture bleak,

Confounded, dismayed, I couldn’t pretend.

“I really think we should just be friends.”