Crush

The moist paper fell in clumps on the floor. We slowly looked up from its harsh descent. We looked for a fleeting moment, searching in each other’s faces for a question. A papier-mâché heart is splattered across the tiles. It wasn't red but I wish it was. The magic in your smile was hard to guess. Your eyes closed softly around my hands; the love is a bird hit by a train, and it’s struggling to breathe, it’s a clot in the lung, a tack in the fingernail, sand in the mouth, a paper cut in the eye. I just smiled at the radio and told you I loved you. You answered to it all the time. My pedestal broke upon the heavy burden. I need to leave this place. My lungs no longer need the oxygen. It’s heavy, heavy, heavy and cold. Don’t come back, do you hear me? Don't you dare wish that I care, don't you dare. I barely remember your face. I dissociate and split apart. Away.