At 6:57 I open my eyes just enough to see into hers. To say they look like the ocean would be a ridiculous cliché but I’ve seen myself drown in them too many times.
At 6:58 she kisses me with apologies glued to the roof of her mouth.” I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for coming back” they whisper.
At 7:00 the door clicks shut.
***
At 7:00 I leave. I can hear his thoughts sigh in sad frustration. “Again” they say.
At 2:07 the hot, bitter, black coffee passes my lips. I close my eyes and feel it trickle down to the abyss that is my stomach. This is what insecurity tastes like.
At 2:19 I open the door. A faint waft of smoke from an hour old cigarette fills my nostrils. He is troubled.
***
At 2:20 I pull my coat on and head for the door. The walls have absorbed all that they can.
At 2:21 she stares at my tear ducts for 43 seconds.
At 2:22 I brush past her in the doorway. The smell of vanilla and rose linger for a moment before I attempt to take every last drop of emotional vulnerability with me.
***
At 3:34 I collapse into a cold sofa. He’s gone but the heavy weight of an infinite amount of unanswered questions remains. “When will this end?” is just one of them.
At 3:57 my eyelids struggle under the burden of never knowing whether this is worth it.
At 5:19 I still don’t know if leaving would crush him or set him free.
***
At 6:02 she calls and says she’s coming to meet me at the bar on the corner. I’m already drunk.
At 6:10 she walks in the door and nothing else exists.
At 6:11 I watch alternate waves of love and torment ebb and flow in her eyes. If I could, I would tie each one of her problems to a helium balloon and we’d sit and watch as they floated away
***
At 6:12 he hands me his fresh cigarette. I don’t inhale.
At 6:15 the small talk begins. Each word is riddled with pain. Temporary salvation is all that I can offer.
At 7:00 I decide it’s time to go. Lightning shatters the gentleness of the autumn rain that begins at the same time as the first tear surrenders its grip on his eyelashes.
***
At 7:26 the warm lights of our apartment hold the cold feeling of unspoken words at bay.
At 7:30 she brings me coffee in bed. Her head rests on my chest and I wonder if my heart sounds any different when it feels this heavy.
At 7:32 the mutual silence is so bittersweet.
***
At 7:40 he’s already asleep, his coffee going cold on the bedside table.
At 7: 48 our synchronised breathing is the epitome of illusion. Never have we been so distant.
At 8:11 I peal myself off him. This is more painful than the slow and hesitant removal of a Band-Aid and I feel just as exposed as the new skin beneath it.
***
At 9:13 I awake to the smell of milk, honey and camomile. I leave the comfort of the white sheets, flecked with the ash of my bad habit.
At 9:21 from the edge of the bath, I watch her comb her long hazel brown hair. In her raw form she is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon.
At 9:36 I realise that every ounce of torment and sadness that I feel in watching her destroy herself is irrelevant. Despite the uselessness that reflects in every pore of skin that is stretched over her ribcage, nothing could make me happier than she does.
***
At 10:00 I apologise. I am the reason for each tear. I am the sorrow that he attempts to drown with each glass of wine, whiskey, vodka, bourbon.
At 10:09 he pulls me in and plants one soft kiss on the tip of my nose and another on my forehead.
At 10:13 he whispers “It’s okay, it isn’t your fault. You’re worth it.”
***
At 10:17 our fingers are intertwined. We are the most simple yet intricate jigsaw puzzle.
At 11:11 she tells me to make a wish.
At 12:00 life is perfect, she is flawless and we are infinite. I realise that this is just one of many days that will prove challenging. I wouldn’t have this bittersweet existence any other way.
