on this day.

falling in love or falling apart.

xxxv. FALLING IN LOVE OR FALLING APART.

when's he not paying attention, watch him. watch him as he dances through the kitchen as ramen cooks away on the stove or in the microwave or how he curses under his breath as he sits on the couch and asks you what's for dinner when you ask why he couldn't have made it. wait, no. listen to him. ask him why he loves you and with open ears, listen as words of nothing less than ego pour from his lips. his voice, does it please you or leave a lump in your throat? don't listen, don't watch, but hold his face in your hands. rub your thumb gently over his lips. feel the goosebumps that rise from his arms the moment you lean and give him a kiss or allow him to sneak his hands into your pants. push him away. or don't. if you feel his heart racing in his chest the second you sigh from relief or from annoyance, leave. or don't. don't touch, but listen. tell him one of your favorite jokes, if he doesn't turn red from laughter, leave. or don't. ask him about marriage, children, pets. if he says maybe's, ask him to explain more, and if he can't, leave. or don't. don't listen, but watch as his fists become white knuckled, the table is pushed from one side of the kitchen to the other. don't watch, but listen as his voice grows loud over yours and suddenly you're crying. if you're crying over something he said, leave. or don't.

instead spend the night on the couch, falling asleep to nickelodeon's late night repeats of the rugrats. don't listen, don't touch, don't even watch, just question. why's, what if's, no yes or no answers but heavy detailed asks that leave you wondering if this is worth it, if you're happy. if you can't answer that simple question, leave. or don't. when you hear the television from your bedroom turn off, shut your eyes. listen as the creaks of the floor echo down the hallway, feel as he brushes his thumb over your eyebrow and apologizes for everything he's done. as he carries you back to bed, ask yourself if he meant it. if he didn't, leave. or don't. in the morning, as he lies asleep with his back facing you, don't think, just do. unzip the suitcase that lays in your closet. t-shirts, jeans, jewelry, one by one stack them until the bag is full. watch him roll over in confusion, curse under his breath as he realizes what's going on. if he walks out of the room in a silent rage ready to explode, leave. or don't. read over the love letter that you wrote him for your first anniversary that he keeps tucked in his wallet. if your heart still bleeds these words, stay. or don't. if he picks himself up from the white sheets and repeats your name like a prayer, stay. or don't. if tears begin to blur his vision, the light set of eyes that you had once fell in love with, stay. or don't. ask yourself the same question that had left you so confused the night before. if you change your answer just because he forces you into a hug, pleading that he'll change, leave. or don't. listen as you question him why you should stay. if he answers with, "for him", leave. or don't.

if he doesn't answer at all, stay. sit down at the edge of the bed as he kneels down in front of you and comb your fingers through his hair as he cries into your lap. wait, find patience, until he tells you that you can leave but he won't know what to do without you.

in that moment, stay. 

or don't.