It’s always the same game, day after day.
We sit down for a quiet dinner The stained-glass fixture flickering above our heads.
The one that I keep forgetting to fix. But we’re both busy. You ignore the light, but your face hardens every time the room faintly dims.
You ask, “How was your day?”
I answer, “Fine. How was yours?”
“Fine.”
Simple talk. Nothing special or sincere about it.
You start to clean the dishes and ask me to dry.
I comply without a word or second thought.
Silence. Nothing but the sound of rushing water. The popping of the sudsing bubbles.
The yellow curtains above the sink are drawn close although I know the moon is full tonight.
You used to love the moon, the stars, the sky.
I watch you.
You move gracefully through the pile of mess. Your hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and a few stray strands of your golden hair fall in front of your eyes.
Oh God. Those eyes. Once the palest of blue. Soft, caring, kind.
I start to remember the happy times.
The long walks through the woods. It would start to rain, but the canopy above us kept us dry.
You loved the smell of rain. You would dance in it for hours. Soaking wet, you would knock on our front door, back when we were kids.
I would answer and you pull me into your wet sanctuary.
Whenever the thunder would roar or the lightening would cackle, you would scream in excitement. You had never felt so alive.
I was a shy boy. A quiet boy. But when it came to you, none of that mattered. All my walls were gone. I was an open room, nothing but a floor, flooded by the storm.
I laughed out loud.
And without a second thought and feeling nothing but love, I grabbed you in my arms kissed you.
Later than night, I’m suddenly flying, floating. Oozing away from reality with my guiding star, my other half. Nothing matters anymore. It’s just you and me. Me and you.
The way it should be.
The way is has been.
You pass me a bowl.
You notice my eyes are glazed over.
I’m smiling.
“What?” you ask.
No. I don’t want to come back to this reality.
I hate it here.
Shit.
I blink a few times and find myself blushing.
I say “Nothing.” No. Instead of saying “nothing”, the nothing I should have said, I say “You’re so beautiful.”
You blush and run your wet fingers across my face before softly kissing me.
“You’re adorable.”
But NO! Instead, you roll your eyes and say the nothing I should have kept to myself. You ignore me.
You pass me a plate and it slips through my fingers, breaking into a million little pieces on the peeling aluminum floor.
You’re eyes are dark. No longer are the pale and soft. Two pools of raging waters.
“I’m so sorry, love.” I say as I start to pick up the glass with my fingertips.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll clean it up.”
“No, I got it.”
“You’re fingers! You’re bleeding all over the floor!”
“Sweetheart, I got it. Don’t worry!”
“Don’t worry about it? Look at my floor…….

That doors slams for the final time that night. The house is no longer silent.
No more rushing water. No more bubbles. No longer the soft humming from your rosy lips.
It’s dead.
You’re slowly killing me.
You hate me, but I still love you with all my heart.
Why though. WHY! Why does it have to be like this?
The constant fighting. The constant yelling.
With every breath, all I breathe in is you. But you’re no longer here.
It’s a dead silence.

The light finally goes out.