An Imaginary Conversation

“God, you are so broken, so torn and battered that you can’t even see yourself anymore. What happened to destroy you so perfectly? How did you get so shattered?”

“I keep trying to answer that, trying to figure it out, but I’m too destroyed to think. I play and I drink and I bury myself in doubt until I can’t breathe. The cords are strangling me and I’m not even sure they actually exist.”

“Here’s my hand. I know you don’t want it, that it somehow makes this worse, but it’s always here. In the dark, when the wires have you tethered to the pain, reach because I am always here.”

“But don’t you see how that’s the problem? Don’t you see how your readiness suffocates me in memories I can’t get back? Your leaving did this to me. Your distance and desire have charred me, blistered me because I cannot have what’s always been inside my soul. I am lost because I lost you. I bleed because you broke me.”

“I want to fix you but I know my touch only slices you deeper. But you broke me too. You are why these words storm from my lips, why I can’t live like I should, love like I should, because you are the only one who could ever hold my fire, contain my desire while setting me free.”

“What have we done? What have we lost, wasted?”

“Life, my love. We’ve forgotten what it’s about.”




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