Cold

It had been so long since she had felt the warmth of his touch.
She couldn’t even recall the last time she had felt the security of his embrace or the reassurance of his smile.
The passion of his kiss had now turned into a distant and fleeting memory and the fire of the lust they shared had extinguished and all that was left were the ashes.
Even though she woke up to him every morning and laid next to him every night, there was nothing left of what they were.
All there was now was a void and a chill because there is nothing colder than the touch of a stranger after the love has gone.

Tears

She couldn’t cry anymore tears.
She had none left to shed.
She had cried them all away for someone who never mattered.
For someone whom she thought she would love for an eternity.
But he made his true self known and with that he shattered her idea of happiness.
She cried incessantly until the tears stopped on their own.
She wasn’t over him and she wasn’t over their love.
But her eyes were swollen, her nose blood red, and her face had aged.
She had nothing left to give in this time of mourning.
She wanted to cry but her tears just wouldn’t come.

A heart that is whole

I find myself broken once again.
I know I was never truly but I felt whole when I was near you.
You managed to polish the scratches and mend the tears of my worn and tattered soul.
Knowing that the imperfections were still there, you accepted me.
You looked passed the blemishes and passed the cracks and saw deeper into me that anyone else had.
You weren’t scared away by what you saw and you didn’t feel pity for the man I was.
You only felt love.
You felt a love that I had never known before.
A love that made me feel that I was undeserving.
I felt as if I was not deserving of something so eloquent and pure.
But you persisted with your devotion and your sincerity.
I began to believe you and see myself through your eyes.
I saw passed my indiscretions and my sins.
I saw passed the facade of the masks that I adorned for the public.
I saw a man that was stripped down to his essential soul and I saw the love you had for him.
But the vision of this man was just an illusion and this illusion was far greater than the reality and truth.
I couldn’t be the man that you wanted and the man than you saw but only the man that I had always been.
I could never be fixed or mended or put back together.
This puzzle known as me is missing far to many pieces to ever be whole.
As much as I wanted you to be the piece, I realize now that I was tainting your world.
I infected your life with the darkness that plagues mine and for that I could never forgive myself.
I can always forgive my actions but I could never forgive them hurting you.
I give you my last broken piece of my heart in hopes that you can join it to yours and have it finally be a part of a heart that is truly whole.

Silouhette

He sat there somberly, watching her silhouette grow fainter as she walked away. He wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking or feeling. He was completely unaware as to the expression on her face as she turned and walked on.

Perhaps she did it intentionally, not glancing back that is. Maybe as to spare his heart from the questions of “What if”, or maybe the anguish of a truly knowing. Or maybe she did not want him to ever know. Knowing this was easier for her than he believed. Either way, he was thankful she spared him in such a way.

She would, in this way, remain forever his. As the immortal embrace of Romeo and his Juliet. He would pay tribute to her with no end. Flecks of her unblemished porcelain skin would line the pages he would lay words to. Strands of her hair would be the pen he would clutch as the same words coursed feverishly through his hand. The blood that flowed through his veins that carried her to his heart and to his existence would be the ink that would eternally immortalized her.

She would always continue to be his, along with the memories, as long as his lungs drew breathe. He could never give his muse up. He would more so give up his life than to give up the singular most greatest and prolific love and inspiration of his life. He looked up and noticed her silhouette had completely faded by now.

He felt his eyes well with tears of anguish and tournament, and then an uncontrollable laughter erupted from within. He was utterly baffled as to where this was originating from. He had just witnessed his everything disappear before his very eyes. He realized then the laughter was coming from the sentiments of the joys of knowing her. The tranquility he felt of being in her arms. The serenity and ease his mind felt as he counted each of her lashes as she slept. The passion of tracing her curves and dedicating them to memory, to later explore them again and again, as if finding something new each time. The creativity that flowed through his hands as he sat and gazed upon her beauty and the words that came to be, almost as lovely as her. The love that so many strive for and so many more perish without knowing, he had been fortunate enough to have experienced.

All though shorter than the dawn, it was never bitter and he knew then he had become more of a man and a better one for it. He picked up his journal and tucked it under his arm, and the laughter slipped away between sighs, and wiping the tears from his cheeks, he began to walk away slowly. Gazing down the path they had many times strolled hand in hand, he put his lips together and began to whistle a familiar melody. It was the same melody that had started it all, and with that he became a silhouette that soon came to fade.