Say Something

I'm Sorry

There was a great heavy air that engulfed the space between us. An ocean of uncomfort, vast plains of silence that emitted no sympathy when you looked at me. I felt cold and so desperately wanted to reach toward your body, to feel the warmth that radiated from you. A warmth I had come to know during windy summer nights in scantily clad beds. Your lean body slumped forward, you stared forward, away from me.

I couldn't grasp what had happened.
I just wanted you to look at me so I could see your eyes, the same amber colored eyes that had once resembled your burning passion for me. But you were tired now. A sleepy boy with lost interest that I desperately wanted to find and return to you.

"Say something." I pleaded as my hand moved towards you.

You didn't move when our skin made contact but a shiver passed through me and I silently wondered if it had been from the cold that hardened your interior.

"What would you like me to say?" You replied, turning to face me. Your voice, your movements: nothing more than a fluid robot. I wished for our bantered back, I wanted your smirks and teasing. Your question left me taken aback. I didn't know how I was supposed to answer when I was too busy wrapped up in the dusting of freckles that scattered your face - new ones that the sun had put there and I had forgotten to count.

"What's changed?" I tried.

Your eyes studied my face and my heart was caught in my throat from your gaze. Maybe you were trying to find an adequate response in my eyes. But maybe you were counting the freckles on my face, realizing you hadn't bothered to search for them before.

"I did."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I changed." You said, a bit harder than before.
"But how?"

You ground your teeth together, a soft yet unpleasant sound that drifted across that ocean between us and I felt my eyes quickly drop to the ground.

The words you choose came carefully and forceful, making sure that each received the proper impact. And baby, believe me it did.

"I don't want you anymore."

I felt like a part of me had stumbled as you said that. Some part had stumbled and couldn't get up. My breath was lost somewhere between my lungs and throat. I couldn't look up because seeing your stone expression that emitted utter exhaustion would break me further and the rest of me would stumble. I knew you wouldn't lend your hand to me to pick me back up.

"Don't ask me why. I just don't." Your voice made my ears pound.
"I didn't ask." I breathed quietly.

A short breath came as you closed your mouth and held back from speaking, I knew you had a list of prepared sentences to spit at me in case I fought this. But I couldn't fight the tuckered out soldier who couldn't play pretend anymore.

I looked up, water brimming my eyelids and tried to smile through it.

The boy with auburn hair that stared back at me couldn't be you, he was too distant. His entire being was so withdrawn and small like the proximity of being near me was a disgusting thought.

"I'm sorry."

I wanted you to beat me to it but with the way you looked at me like I was a disease made me say it first. I felt like I had to apologize for the nights I contaminated your sheets with my presence.
Say something, something else, something nice, I begged silently as you stood and walked towards the door. Salty tears began escaping my eyelashes and falling down my face. But then, as the front door slammed shut, I remembered you were not a nice boy.