FORGET ME NOT

III

I LAY BESIDE him, slowly removing the jagged edges from the harsh words caught in his throat. The words he intended to hurl at me, the words he intended to hurt me with. They hurt him more than they could ever have hurt me. I lay beside him, picking up the pieces of his heart that jumped to his throat in fear of losing me, that shattered to pieces against the love bites littering his collarbones. He screamed.

His voice rang out like a crescendoing cantata in my ears, agony melodious and soft like heaven itself. Doubtful, I know. But it truly was the most beautiful sound. And as I write this now, I look back and think to myself, I truly would do absolutely anything if it meant I could hear his voice again. just once more.

And so I joined in, until my throat went raw and my voice grew hoarse, clawing at wood until my fingernails were splintered into morcels. He was not at peace; not without my heart that bled out to him, and so I could not afford to rest. I chased him until my lungs gave out and I could no longer run. And still he ran. And I let him get away.

I hope he knows that I'm sorry, and that I'll forever be sorry. It was never my intention to lead us both hearts first into hell. He knows, I'm sure. He knows, but does he really? Surely, by now, he can't be bothered to care. He left because I left first, but it still burnt worse than the frostbitten slicing of an ice cold knife on skin. I wasted his time, chasing and chasing until it all tipped over the brink. Empty promises my vessel could not fulfill.

Naive, aren't I?