Lovers, Students

And that was when he kissed me and held me tightly, bruising my arms with his hands as he cried into my hair. It was then that I heard the irreversibility of sound of a gentle heartbreak, capillaries one by one snapping as if like dried twigs. I could hear each burst as they came with wavering sobs that pushed hard against his clavicles, against the walls of his skin into mine. In that small, dim-lit diner, two courses had diverged completely, two young students crying into one another as the world that held them shook and convulsed into indecipherable pieces. As we sat there for minutes or seconds or years we felt distinctly the breach of a frail line that had once connected our meager existence to the virility of hope. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to love someone. The roadmaps, which trapped the golden glowing moments, crumpled into blackened dusts and soot. To care deeply, the idea of it, the fortuitous instance where you would give your heart away, became lost-entirely. I’ve forgotten the words to which, a broken language, I would respond, and embrace. Upon the hardened tar of sweet sentimentality and the warm exchange of glances, I saw and realised your true feelings. Had I known the dulcet rose would have hidden a bush of thorns, I would have loved somebody else. I would have flown a greater distance in search of a greater truth. I would have travelled! I would have loved and loved and loved so much more than I could have possibly imagined! But instead, I had allowed the waves to swallow my body whole, to choke and spit out the bones and leave nothing, but not even the slightest of heart behind. You scorched me, body and soul. You annihilated the threshold of me, leaving only the festering wood of my splintered ego. I have forgotten innocence, I have forgotten humanity.