Monday, July 15, 2013

Hold my hand and tell me you love me

No one knows what he said to me, Henry, just before he left. Chloe has other things on her mind, I can tell from the careful way she steps out of her shoes when she comes back from work. The sound of it speaks more clearly than anything she could ever put into words, her naked footsteps on the black marble in the hallway is what authors spend lifetimes trying to write about.

We haven't smoked together on the balcony since April, the memory of it seems like from another life. I'm afraid we might be growing apart, she doesn't talk to me the way she used to. It has happened before but this time it's different, more acute. I hide in my room when she walks by, hoping she will pause and lean against the door but she never does.

A year ago we were a wasteland apart, now the distance between us seems bigger than ever.


No comments:

Post a Comment