(A short ‘story’ that isn’t long enough to be a book)
:
It’s just not the same. Our romance just doesn’t click like it used to, we’re no longer dancing in the kitchen for no reason anymore. There’s no longer good morning kisses, or goodnight love. There’s no more silly texts that express your affection, no random hugs and laughter, we don’t grin and giggle at the secret jokes we used to- . You’re out later than you should be more often than not now, and come home disheveled with your eyes glazed over. Of course, I wouldn’t know personally... but I’d bet that your lips always tasted of your favorite whisky.
In our house filled with furniture that we bought with giggles and grins, lays floors of wood stained with invisible tears and unspoken sins. What happened to the you who would hold me close and shield me from old pains? Why replace him with the you who’s mapped out my old scars and uses them for gain? Who gave you the right to abuse my secrets and past lovers to justify your own misdeeds? Why am I at fault for your mistakes when they too do nothing but hurt me? All the progress we made! All the open sores you helped close! What purpose does it make for you to tear them open and add in new sorrows and woes? I-..
What has happened in the year we’ve spent in our would-be home that has changed the look of which you gaze upon me with? What have I done to justify the ire in those orbs? What part of me dried up the ocean of love and tenderness that used lay claim in those long glances? Why does, when you look at me, I feel the heat of the sun and coldness of the Arctic? I want to hate you so bad, my soul yearns to curse yours but why? Why does- ....
The funny thing is that we don’t even fight. There’s just silence, dead silence, the silence that grows stale and tight. I’m just so tired.....
