I am on the verge of losing him.
You know how terminal patients count their last days on earth, how their remaining hours are like time bombs just waiting to obliterate everything into wasted matter? This is us. Indulging in an excruciating process that gnaws only at my dying need to save us.
It’s been awhile. I wonder if he feels as though he’s got a tight grip around his neck, too. If he has the same anxiety and fears like mine.
I wonder if he’s anticipating the fall as much as I do, the painfully slow movement of our worlds coming to a halt.
I never imagined I would ever have to picture him walking out of the door, leaving everything behind yet taking everything with him, too. I wished so much nothing of this was real. That it’s all just a horrible nightmare.
But everything is in slow motion. The uncertain agitation eating me alive. I’ve had fears before but it was nothing like this one. I remember how he used to look at me like I painted the sky with stars each night. It used to glimmer but now, the sparkle had died down.
These days, I am just trying to hold on to every memory and every moment; however, I know it won’t be long till my grip loosens. It won’t be long till one of us gets sick of it all and leaves.
I just want him to stay. To rekindle the spark he ignited within me.
They say the love never changes; only the people. And perhaps, our time bomb has reached its limit. Like many other things, maybe you’re just not mine to keep.
All the sparks that have flown between us were magic. But these sparks could only fly so high before they eventually, sizzle out.