Member-only story
Last Exit
I looked up at him. His eyes shone like the brightest blue of the ocean, the most beautiful part, and I could see so far into them that it made me weep.
He let go of my hand gently and turned away.
“Wait, wait,” I said.
Pathetic.
He turned back to me slowly.
Agony.
“Tell me you love me. Before you go, tell me you love me.”
His eyes softened a bit. He reached his arms toward me, took my heart from my chest, and held it gently in his beautiful, warm hands.
“I love you. I love you more than anything. I always have.”
He handed my heart back to me, but as he did, it broke. It was now twisted and black.
He turned away again and left me.
I wanted to call out once more, “Come back and breathe life into it, unbreak it.”
But I didn’t because he couldn’t or wouldn’t.
Those mean the same thing when you really think about it.
I let him go, and I put my now broken, black, strangled heart back where it belonged, and I sank
into the mud.
Or maybe it was into the fire.
It was heavy and thick.
It wouldn’t let go.
And it burned in my soul until it couldn’t burn anymore.
I exist, barely.
🖤 — GC
