[A short story I wrote this morning out of some lyrics]
Shadows settle on the place, that you left.
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.
Destroy the middle, it’s a waste of time.
From the perfect start to the finish line…
He openned his eyes to see her slender silhouette walking barefoot in their small apartment in Manhattan. The early dawn weak light touched her elegant shoulders and made her presence seen before him. She stood naked behind the cold window glass. Her breath was breaking the morning silence in warm wounds of air. City lights were still on, making the previous night feel like an endless battle of wet pillows and dried tears on soft skin. She woke up again with a scream, an inner pain that slipped her mouth.
…Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silhouette,
A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget,
My eyes are damp from the words you left,
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest…
His suitcase was still open by the green wooden table she had collected from the street fair. Two glasses of red wine and loads of promises stood broken on that table, next to an one way ticket to London, for one. One is the toughest number, so many mysteries and decisions have been split to one. One life, one heart, one decision to move forward. One person to make this decision and another one to deny it and live with its consequences.
…And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.
Setting fire to our insides for fun
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong
The lovers that went wrong…
She had not fallen in love with him, she had chosen to walk into love with him the moment she let her eyes on his smile at the gallery in South London. His smile she saw first and it was enough to make her smile back at him. His body followed that smile anywhere they would go, but above all she chose to take every step along the way with him. She always believed in fate and destiny taken out of stories of love beyond the world as we see it, but she also believed we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. She would choose him in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality she would find him and she would choose him. They had been living in each other’s world for five years, until that same sense of fate torn them apart. Resisting fate is like fighting to stand motionless in front of a wave, a gigantic, enormously powerful mass of water, it will move you, shake you to the core and take you to shores you’ve never been before.
…And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one,
‘Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I’m forever missing him…
And she already misses him and his consuming love and his cold feet and his funny freckles on his left knee and the nights they spent singing Frank Sinatra’s songs in theatrical gestures like Italian lovers of the 80s, on the mouldy roof among New York’s dusty buildings, under the moonlight that made everything look brighter and superficially better. She misses his arms in the shape of hug around her body as he stands in front of her saying nothing, no word can give the end a proper sound, only the silence tightly surrounding them. She could not forget this time, or she could inevitably painfully remember all the times that their flaws revealed themselves in mistakes and human betrayal.
Outside everything was white and silent, the snow had cover everything even their remorse. He packed his notebook and the rest of his clothes leaving his old pair of jeans and his grey coat on the chair and remained still looking at Laura for a while. “We did well… we never had any regrets”. She had no strength to reply, no wish to prove him wrong once again, it would hurt ever more, so she only asked for a last dance. A hug under the veil of their old soundless music to make them feel, at least physically, like being one.