A love tattered, held by the strings of the past and weakened to the prospects of the future
You eyes don’t speak anymore. They don’t glisten. They fade to a colourless canvass that only reflects the emptiness in mine.
Torn by the shackles of another you crack smiles like the strain of an innocent imprisoned. Free yourself. I am too weak, too scared, too breathless to say it’s done. We lay on these chairs, staring at the ceiling and walls that have enclosed us for countless birthdays and Christmases. Sprawled like reptiles basking in a muggy heat, we stare. Laughter from outside pierces through cracked windows. An unwelcome ruffling of her feet on neatly laid cousins cements our silence in the abyss of nothingness.
I remember the smiles. Her touch was electricity, sharp, agonising, sensual, tantalising. I could feel her as she walked into the room. Our very essence merged and drowned in euphoric surrender. We were everything. We were something. We were nothing.
She talks work and numbers and gossip of the lives of those who care to live. I stare back. Blind. Her lips move and i try to remember how they once dance like wild fire. The memory is lost. The words are empty and the melancholy sound drifts through the cracked windows into the lives of those who care to live.