2016 January 10
Sometimes I just sit and stare into the fireplace in our living room, glass of wine in my hand, classic vinyls whispering in the background and me practically seeing our shattered memories in the dancing flames.
The people we used to be a distant memory in my mind and a sad song in my heart. The fact that we used to be in love and cheerful every damn morning is an unspoken dream to who we are now: angry, bitter and unhappy strangers. We can't even have a decent meal together anymore, not with the way we seem to scream in frustration at the mere presence of the other and break the fancy china we bought and pretended they were wedding gifts from our absent parents.
In these flames I see our irreplaceable love.
I see our wide smiles.
Our hopeful hearts.
Our crazy dreams.
Our forgiving kisses.
These flames remind me of the warmth I used to feel when you kissed me. They try to hypnotize me into thinking that one day we might just survive,
but as the wine I drink vanishes into dust and that wine glass is as empty as our broken hearts and these flames die out,
I remember all the days of heartache and all the nights of our piercing screams of anger. Maybe these are the memories that I need to survive.
YOU ARE READING
Oversight
RomanceExcerpt from Freddie's Journal: Mon erreur 2016 May 5 I wish I could look back to all the happy moments in our story, all the sweet nothings you used to whisper in my ear, late in the night when the storm outside would roar and my chest would want t...
