in a burning room

You don’t get to leave and say you’ll miss me, kiss me while we cry and say our last goodbyes before the next time we meet which we don’t know when. You don’t get to leave and send me texts which show that you miss me and then just disappear like that. You don’t get to leave and say you will still call but not do so because still love each other.

You don’t get to leave. You don’t get to leave me.

But I let you anyhow. 

The soul is old. It gets pretty difficult to go back to loud, brash vivaciousness after crossing that fine line. What is it that is missing now? Or what is it that I have lost? Is this about losing or gaining something? 

There seems to be no need for so much talk now - no need for all the superfluity, the excess, the words that dissipate into mere sounds. There is a calmness. And also a solitude, that sometimes blends into loneliness. In this singularity, silence can be brash too. 

Your nose turned red by the moment. You furrowed your brows a little. Was it really confusing? You looked at me and reached for my cold hands. I wished you could have looked at me this way and reached for my hands this way more often. I laid down, neck resting on your lap - having your arm lightly wrapped across my bosom. The furrowing became more intense. Were you hurting too? I hate looking at you because I feel vulnerable. My feelings bare on that jotter-book paper that trembles between your fingers. 

You looked at me again when you were done. I forced a sad smile and felt your arm curl tighter around me. You eyes looked bloodshot. You gazed out ponderous. Were you feeling as afraid as I was? I see you manage a nervous swallow and a deep sigh. I twisted my fingers round yours before you left me too far behind. 

We fought for words as we held back tears. The words struggling to tumble from our lips, the tears that aren’t worth fighting against anymore. Why would you want to leave a happy place? 

‘I can’t give you the attention that you want. I will and definitely can give you that if we are physically together.’

Don’t go. Don’t say it. Stay here please. I wish the waves would stop lapping so I won’t know that time is passing so quickly. Stay here please. We only had an hour left.

‘Why did you come back?’

‘I’m not a machine - I don’t switch on and off like that.’

That sounds familiar. I said that before. But when? Did I say that to you? You swallowed again. 

Words are so clumsy. But we need to hear them - even if they were rolled out in gurgled spurts incoherently. Words are so clumsy. 

‘You are an amazing girl.’

Your cheek felt warm on mine. Your hot breath against my ear. Why do we only say things like this when are already holding on to shredding threads? A deep breath then I could not breath and started to cry.

I have never cried so hard in a long time. I have never cried so hard in front of you. 

My face buried in your chest. You held me even closer, and tighter. Your heart beat quickens. Do our heart rates increase when we are sad? You nuzzled your face in my neck. I noticed that it did not scratch - you were well-shaven that night. Even that did not help me stop. How do you stop someone from grieving? 

You reached for the tissue roll from the picnic bag, carefully folded it in the way you would always do, and gently dabbed my cheeks dry. I loved the way you kept watching me and never missed a tear. It was as if you were just there to catch these pearls of pain. Why did you dry the tears that were cried for you? I did not stop the tears. I wanted you to wipe them off. I wanted to have enough of that moment stored. I wanted you to have enough of my tears collected in your hand. Maybe you wanted to that moment stored too, my pain carried in your palm. 

‘I do not know how else to say this, but I really enjoyed all the times spent with you and…’

I could not hear what you said after that. Behind the blur of brine in my eyes I saw those lips move as you touched my face. I tried to look you in the eye hoping to hear more of your heart. I know you liked me but just how much? Do you love me? Your tilted my chin the way you always do when you wanted to kiss me. Your lips trembled against mine. Our lips found a safe place to keep those fears. Our lips found another and wanted to stay. I have never felt those soft lips tremble. Were you as afraid as I was? 

Our lips parted, the chilly sea breeze getting in between us. That always happens - we keep leaving each other. I looked at you the way a girl would. Something rolled down to the side of your cheeks. Was that a tear? You cry? Baby, why do you only become vulnerable with me when we can no longer be together? The man I have cried for is now crying for me. My heart sang and ached all at once. We have only begun to tear walls down and we are already building them up again. 

‘…I treasure you a lot.’

‘…I will miss you.’

With each line a string is tugged and a part of me breaks as I hold on to you a little tighter because that was the only tangible thing that I could grasp. Words are so clumsy. But we need to hear them anyway. 

‘I love you. Very deeply. I just want you to know that.’

They forced their way out of a tight throat choking on pain. You wrapped your arms round me with a fervour I have never before felt. You were in pain too. Did you love me too?

I did not know if I was waiting for an answer. What I did know is your arms strongly possessing my body, your chest firm but softly receiving mine, rising and falling. That, was real. I did not know if you loved me. But I knew you did. 

We let each other go now. We need to learn that sooner or later. Your face is wet with tears. You did not try to hide them. I took those tears and kept them in my hands. I wanted to keep a man’s tears for me. I wanted to store that pain to ease my own. I wanted to remember you with no walls. 

We held on till distance tore our fingers away from each other. We tried. But we needed to leave. You smiled a sad smile to mine and mouthed something which ended with a ‘you’. I did not hear it or decipher it. Maybe you did not say it and did not want me to hear it. I don’t know. What I do know is that crisp orange shirt which smelled as fresh as your home, your heading turning to catch another glimpse at me while they checked your passport, your last wave amongst the tax-free bottles of perfume. I do not know if you love me. But I know you do. Because, that, was real. 

Tim: Isn’t it strange that on this one day the world stops, and everyone decides to celebrate just another day?

Alex: At least that’s something the world agrees upon.

Tim: Yeah, I suppose we all need some sort arbitrariness in our lives. 

Parting is always difficult. It takes us out of our usual routine of things. Something that we got used to and now have to be rid of. 

Parting is always difficult. Especially so when it was not for love lost. Especially so when love is not enough, and the heart does not have the last say.

Parting is always difficult. But it is made simpler because you are where you are and I am where I am - already apart.

It is made simpler because we still love each other.