Her

A man recounting the times with his former lover, and how much he loved her and needed her, and how she broke him.

It was her; day upon day, night upon night I was dressed up in her fumes. It was always her; out of range, out of sight, but never out of my mind. It was always her- through the dull of the morning to the twinkle of night; through unburdened sleep and concealed anger; in between consoled whimpers and careless stares she was always a home.

It was always her, she was always the answer. From troubling sorrows to testing moods, in bad days and in good. From finding clothes to foraging food, she was always the solution. From late night movies to long drives, lazy Saturday brunches to staying in on the weekends, in need of laughter and in need of affection she always complied. She was the one who was always there. She was my shoulder when I wept.

It was always you. You, who left me broken to pieces; you who left me bereft of a soul. A fragile, hollow, stitched up vessel. It was always you who was there on my bad days, but not on my worst. Because it was you, your absence rather, that one by one split open my heartstrings and tugged at the core. You who left me bloodshot, you who opened the floodgates. In more ways than one I was shaken as if I had just experienced an earthquake, and you were the epicenter of it. You threw me under the train. You were the bullet to my brain.

You stopped listening for my heartbeat, and I stopped beating for you.

It was always me; me who gave my all, me who constantly loved you. It was me who held you tight when you needed warmth, when you couldn't sleep in the cold. It was me who took you to your favourite romantic movies and watched them with you. It was me who took your hand when you were afraid to cross the road. It was my chest you cried on when your dad left your mom. It was my car we sold to buy our house. It was my songs you needed to hear to sleep, not Adele, nor any of your other favourite singers, but the ones I wrote for you that helped you drift away.

Yet, it was me who suffered in silence, me who cried in vain, me who was left disconsolate and crestfallen. It was me who tried to move together even after you slept with someone else. It was me who forgave you, it was you who played me. It was you who was to blame, but it was me who begged and me who thought everything was my fault. It was you who took the house, it was you who left me in pain, insane. It was me crouched up on someone's floor crying my eyes out.

Because it was me who cared, you who pretended.

It was me; day upon day, and night upon night, lost in a bed of lies.

Reviews

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Questions, agony, carve, regrets, hatred....so much things has to bear just to be in the word "love"
As I've blank knowledge bout it...so at least so good lucks for your writings!!
Nice read😊