I think we should split up.
You think you heard him wrong.
I don’t think I can go on with this anymore.
You don’t tell him that you can’t go on without him.
It’s for the best.
You don’t tell him that you feel like you’re at your very worst.
It’s not that I don’t love you -
Then what was it?
- it’s just not working.
You weren’t broken until he shattered you.
I’m sorry.
It didn’t make it hurt any less.
Goodbye.
And just like that, you were left with a broken heart; memories of the past and promises of the future spilling out of the wound he left when he walked away.
It might’ve been quick, but it was anything but painless.
-
It’s been one month since that fateful day, but you still remember it like it happened yesterday.
Michael’s soft hair, his head bowed down, eyes avoiding yours. You remember how he turned away from you when he said those words, how his voice was steady despite his fingers knotting and loosening erratically behind his back; a habit of his when he was nervous.
You remember how he finally looked you in the eye when he apologized, how there was sincerity in those light eyes of his, but missing the warmth that you once knew.
You remember how he stood there as he watched the tears form in your eyes, how he avoided your questions of why.
You remember how he walked away when you needed him to stay.
You tried to forget him; tried to forget how he used to smile whenever you accidentally tripped over your own two feet, how he told those awful jokes, or how he smelled when he leaned in close to you.
You tried to forget the warmth of his arms and you tried to forget the taste of his lips and how he smiled into your kisses when you ran your fingers through his hair; how he’d loop his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you closer to him.
You tried to forget how he used to call you at night when he couldn’t sleep, how his raspy voice sounded next to your ear, or how he used to rest his head onto your shoulder when he stood behind you, his hair tickling your cheeks and his arms secure around your waist.
But that’s the thing - how do you forget something - someone you love?
Michael was your favourite song, and no matter how much time passed, you’d still remember every word, every little melody and every little change in key and fall in love all over again as if it was the first time.
You’d never really forget him, you think.
-
You deleted all the pictures and you sent back all of his clothes and hid all the toys and gifts in a box in the corner of your closet.
You might’ve been able to hide the mementos of what you had, but you’d never be able to erase the traces of Michael from your life.
Not when his band’s songs were increasingly popular on the radio. Not when everywhere you went, you’d find a fan or a poster or a magazine with their name or their picture somewhere to be seen.
