The story that came to be true

I trace the muscles that line your back in perfect symmetry as you lay there completely silent. The room is hot and the sheets are rough and the bathroom light is peaking through the oddly shaped cracks in the wall. As much as we would yell horridly towards each other- words of hatred, words of regret- we can never fully detach ourselves from the bond that was mustered through the very beginning of this detrimental yet enticing series of I love you's and words that form bruises on our bodies like a disfigurement of our love, telling us to run away only to crawl right back. So that's what this is, that's what we do. We crawl back into the same arms on occasions of loneliness, hoping for forgiveness or maybe even another sign of true love, knowing of the fated separation to come. As I lay next to you in this rugged motel room for the night, insomnolence sets so that I can fully take on the filling of the void in my heart for just these few hours this one last night.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

This is a well-worded, strong description of a time of intimacy, albeit tenuous. The only kind of relationships I've ever known were volatile, so this seems like real life to me.