To Watch Love Die

Did He Give Up On Me

Shared by missamycastle

It is profoundly surreal to watch as something dies. To witness firsthand as blooms and leaves curl in on themselves, rejecting the sunlight they are offered; to see as the once vibrant green darkens to a melancholy grey-green that is only a ghost of what it once was.

Likewise, I have watched the most intense love I’ve ever felt wither into near nothing. He himself is alive and well-the love he once had for me… that’s withered into something near non-existence.

How do I know that it ever existed then? What do I have to show for it but 20 seconds devoted to me each day, recorded by a harried voice note as he happily continued on with his life? I cannot bundle those times he so graciously allotted me and regain the days and weeks and months I spent with him. The afternoons I spent loving him, and wishing he was here, the evenings I spent laughing with him, the mornings I’d wake up to his affection… to what do they all amount besides an aching heart and heavy mind?

To what do I owe this torture? I’ve done nothing so heinous I deserve this! I really haven’t…

Although, perhaps, loving him was sin enough.

I once told him, in a fit of tears, that it hurt to love him and as much as I didn’t want to love him… I still did.

That holds true even now.

Even in the wake of his blatant rejection of me… I still remain his. In every sense of the word I am his. My heart aches and beats for him. My mind clamors that I speak with him while my ears turn inward that I haven’t heard from him. My torso aches for him to hold me close against him and these hands… these restless hands yearn to be enveloped in his. My eyes water at the thought of never seeing him again and my mouth closes into a tight line although I have so much to say to him yet.

I wither from the lack of light, my leaves turning inward as he turns from the sun I begged for him.

And yet, even in the throes of death, gasping for breath, I’d use the last breath I had to whisper his name.

I’d die knowing he’d never do the same.

© Miss Amy Castle

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