06-13-2020, 07:32 PM
when you're dreaming with a broken heart
She thinks there must have been a time when she had wanted this – them, together. She is sure that at one point she had dreamt it, prayed for it, begged for it. She is sure when her heart first broke she had thought he would be the solution to fix it; that if it shattered apart because of him, that he would also be the only one that could piece it back together.
She isn’t sure when she realized that would never happen – that you can’t heal a wound using the knife that created it.
That trying to create love where it no longer existed wasn’t love at all.
He apologizes, and she wishes he wouldn’t. It makes her chest feel tight, makes her heart feel like it’s trying to claw out of her ribcage so that she might not have to feel anything anymore. That she would not have to see him feel guilty for something that wasn’t his fault, because it’s not his fault he stopped loving her, and not his fault that everything continued to spiral after that. “Why are you sorry?” She means for the words to sound sharp, she wishes for them to carry an edge, but instead there is only a tired kind of softness, looking at him with melancholy lingering in her eyes.
“You don’t have to do anything,” and without realizing she takes a single step towards him, ignoring the chill of the wind that stings against her cheeks and incites a shiver that crawls across her skin. “You don’t…owe me anything, Plume.” There is a heavy silence, one burdened by a sad kind of tension, before she slowly, carefully, says, “I know you weren’t happy with me, that something was missing, and you found it in someone else. You don’t have to apologize for that.”
She isn’t sure when she realized that would never happen – that you can’t heal a wound using the knife that created it.
That trying to create love where it no longer existed wasn’t love at all.
He apologizes, and she wishes he wouldn’t. It makes her chest feel tight, makes her heart feel like it’s trying to claw out of her ribcage so that she might not have to feel anything anymore. That she would not have to see him feel guilty for something that wasn’t his fault, because it’s not his fault he stopped loving her, and not his fault that everything continued to spiral after that. “Why are you sorry?” She means for the words to sound sharp, she wishes for them to carry an edge, but instead there is only a tired kind of softness, looking at him with melancholy lingering in her eyes.
“You don’t have to do anything,” and without realizing she takes a single step towards him, ignoring the chill of the wind that stings against her cheeks and incites a shiver that crawls across her skin. “You don’t…owe me anything, Plume.” There is a heavy silence, one burdened by a sad kind of tension, before she slowly, carefully, says, “I know you weren’t happy with me, that something was missing, and you found it in someone else. You don’t have to apologize for that.”
the waking up is the hardest part
ANONYA
