The Silence's Attack
See my teal eyes tearstained through this screen, feel my teeth biting my bottom lip in frustration, smell the lavender from my bath, hear my white manicure hitting the sticky keys of this keyboard, taste my salty tears as I struggle to admit that the wall you have put up is too much for my love to fight. I am slowly giving up on you, each day a freckle on your face being erased, the touch of your fingers around mine fading until I only feel my own hands typing on this keyboard.
I would have done anything for you, followed you anywhere. I would have put Neosporin and a bandaid over your wounds and let you stitch up my own. We are new at this, after all, still learning how to not fall quite as hard.
I feel a lump in my throat as the impending goodbye stabs its way through my own armor. I've become an army of one in a battle that we were meant to fight together. I am destroyed, bloody. Even as a ragged remnant of what it once was, my heart refuses to loosen its grip on yours. But only slivers of it remain, the rest killed in action. And each moment of silence brutally murders yet another fragment. And so my body starts to give up the fight, unable to protect my heart. I am so sorry I cannot get to you, photos ending up in dumpsters and memories becoming replaced by new memories.
Wait- what color are your eyes? That of the steaming hot chocolate with the oversized marshmallow we used to sip in SoHo on freezing rainy days? Or light like the caramel cream we used to mix in our morning raspberry truffle coffees? I remember teasing you about having a high-pitched voice, but I can only remember a low radio announcer's voice. Do you smell salty and fresh like the ocean we used to drive by every Sunday afternoon, or is your smell more like that of the mangroves we got lost in?
Say something before the silence wins this war.