The Second Chapter

The End- June 3, 2019

You looked like the man I am in love with- soft curls covered your head, the scar in your lip wobbled as you tried desperately not to cry and the tears in your eyes accentuated the galaxies I still find there despite the words that escaped your mouth.

"I'm just not all in like I was before. I can't get rid of the feeling" you say, "I just don't feel the spark."

In those moments, I could feel a phantom hand- your hand- shove through my chest, past the muscle and bone until it was firmly and painfully wrapped around my heart. It fought like a wild animal, bucked and wriggled and tore desperately at your vice-like grip hoping that it might prevent what was to come. But you held fast and with another "I love you, but I can't do this anymore" you tore it clean from my chest.

My mouth fell open from the agony that ensued in that moment, but no sound came out. There was no air in my lungs. No words in my chest. Just pain- unending, bottomless pain. It felt like my whole chest would cave in on itself and my body shook from the empty space you created in a matter of seconds. I looked out the window, searching desperately for anything normal, anything real to anchor me to the moment, to convince me that I was in a painful dreamscape and I would wake up any second. But then I turned to you, seeking the solace and comfort you always provided, and I found none there. You left your hands, lifeless and limp, on your lap as tears streaked down your cheeks. Your chest rose and fell at a normal pace- no indication of the torment so obviously painted across your face. I wanted you to reach over and grab my face, my shoulders, my hands, anything, and yank me into your lap. In those moments, I wanted you to see what you were doing to me first hand- see the breaking as it happened, not just hear about it- and rescind all of your previous claims of independence.

In fact, I needed you to. I needed you to look into my eyes, the same eyes you fell in love with a year ago, and fight for me. I needed you to realize that despite the emotions you were feeling, despite the fear and self-hatred and unsureness of the future that you would look into my eyes and realize that none of it mattered as long as I am there. Because when I look into yours, it doesn't matter what is and isn't going right in my life in that moment. Nothing matters but you. The rest of my problems vaporize into thin air, floating away on a distant wind only to be revisited on the next stormy day. I only see your beautiful galaxies, swirling lazily in the warm sunlight. The soft browns and golds welcoming me home. And even in those moments, as you broke my heart with every passing second and word you uttered, they were still warm. They begged me to shake you harder, lean in closer, kiss you passionately and remind you of everything we worked for. But still, you sat motionless. Still, you kept your hands on one side of the car, as if an invisible wall had been erected between us. And each second passed slower, more painstakingly.

In those moments, I wanted nothing more than to be yours. Nothing more than to close my eyes every night with the knowledge that you were mine and I was yours. But you said you couldn't even give me that. I wish I was strong enough to do the same. But every night, I lay down and press my back against a wall to fill the empty space where you should be, and cocoon myself tightly in blankets to fake the warmth of your arms enveloping me, and I fall asleep with my heart mere feet away, still clenched tightly in your hand, still beating strong and defiantly, but bleeding out second by second. I don't believe it will ever stop bleeding, nor do I believe it can even be staunched. It is a constant flow of crimson red, pooling around your hand and your bed, your feet when you stand. Because it found its home in your chest, next to your own heart, and despite the agony it is enduring right now, given the chance to return back to me, it would refuse. Because it, as well as I, know that its home is with you. My home is with you. And now, you've taken that home from me. I wander aimlessly every day, with a goal in my head but none in my heart. And as pitiful as it sounds, I hope a day never comes when my heart returns to me. Because as long as you hold it, there is a chance of a future with us.

And trust me, there is truly nothing more in this world that I could possibly want than to walk back into your life, your scent and your eyes and your arms greeting me, finally welcoming me home.

I know I shouldn't, but I'm waiting for that day. I'm looking forward to that day. And despite what you're feeling right now and regardless of how deeply buried it is, I know you are too.

I just wish (desperately I should add) that that day would be today.