Something and nothing that I wrote a while ago: She looked at him, as he sat beside her bed. Theyd been close once, as close as a man and a woman could get. Theyd shared a house, a bed, their dreams. It had been good. But then the arguments started. No...shed started the arguments, now she thought about it. She didnt know why. Even now, she didnt know why. Maybe she was scared of the commitment, the giving of her entire self to one man. Maybe she felt tied down. Trapped. One thing she realised now was that it wasnt his fault. The rows that she blamed him for, blamed his selfishness for...shed started all of them. Because, when she became ill, too ill to look after herself, of all the people who could have helped, all the people she thought of as friends? They were too busy. The guy she was with when the illness started, she could barely remember his name...as soon as she was hospitalised, he was gone. Apparently hed stripped the flat of anything of value and left. Yet here *he* was. Sat by her bed, day after day, talking, holding her hand, smiling, reminiscing about the good times. And there had been so many good times. She knew that, now. Hed done nothing to her except love her. Hed given her joy, hed given her happiness, hed given her confidence, hed given her his heart. And shed hurt him, confused him, driven him away. Yet here he was. Day after day. From the time she opened her eyes to the time the lights were turned off. Sat beside her, on the bed, stroking her hand and arm, talking, smiling, singing. She should never have left him. And now she had to leave him again, hurt him once again. One more time, there he was, beside her as she lay. He smiled, again, a solitary tear running down his face as he threw a handful of soil in the hole. Goodbye, my love. I always loved you he whispered. She smiled. Goodbye. Thank you. I love you too.
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 17:14:53 +0000
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