Loss

"I want to watch you get old," he said to me while we were dancing one night. He was earnest too I realized, he wanted to watch me wrinkle like it was the leaves turning brown. From that instant, I wanted to watch him get old too.

There was an ache in my heart then, it told me that I wanted to be near him that day when he would die. I wanted the bleak emptiness of loss. I wanted it to be real and not the distant hollowness of just another lost soul. I wanted to more than feel hollow, I wanted to know what it was like to be full, so that the emptiness was real, the tears truly bitter with loss. I wanted to be lonely when I died.

And realizing this I found myself nearer to him. We made love in the bedroom, and I moved in.

I made him breakfast in the morning, and sometimes we watched television in the night.

We took our oaths with little necessity; it was mostly so he could start sleeping around. But his lust faded with his looks, he was always faithful in his heart.

He looked to me from the tattered sofa, and his eyes went weak at the knees. He fought back tears briefly, as long as he very well could, but he began to cry softly. His lip quivered.

"Katelyn," he uttered so desperately, "I loved you." And then he stopped crying, he wiped his tears slowly as he sniffed.

Through sad teary eyes his mouth was wrinkled in a smile. He looked into my eyes, my lips a sad purse. We shared another moment; we shared our last moment where our pasts came to fruition, where our lives came to a halt. With a swollen heart I saw his chest shrink as all of the unimportant stuff came out. His stomach dissolved and his lungs heaved and dissipated. In his last move he bent down and hugged me in a loose ferocity. In his arms, he shook like he held a nothing, guarding it from the wind. When he closed my eyes he was gone forever leaving me with nothing but the gentle breeze.

He used to hold me and though we'd be motionless, we'd be dancing again. I was alone like so many years ago but empty too. So empty and complete.

I like this one's take on love. It might be my take on love, but inexperience might forsake me. Too much weed and lonliness inspired this one.

-Dan