Evermore

I remember everything about him.  His green eyes.  His soulful fucking eyes.  I hated them.
I hated how he would hold my hand so tenderly, as though he would break me.
I hated how he would brush his nose against my neck, making my knees become fuzzy and frail.
I hated how he would be talking so excitedly while walking ahead of me, and then he would turn his head over his shoulder, grinning crookedly at me.
I hated how when his life became so hectic he told me to let him sink.
______
 
      "Vi?"  His soft gaze tried to meet mine.  But I refused to look at him with tears clouding my vision.  He pulled his large hands around my small ones, "Please."
     I forced myself to look at him.  But  I could only reach his shaggy brown hair.
     "Let me drown."  He was whispering.  "Let me drown, and eventually I'll be able to swim to the surface and see you on the shore."
     My teeth were clenching.  "Let me help."  He smiled sadly.
     "This is something you can't help with."
     "You haven't let me try!"  I leaned forward, squeezing his hands desperately.
     And then he brought his mouth to my forehead.  And he rested there for several moments.  Just before he pulled away he murmured, "I love you.  I can't let you be hurt."
     I sneered, "How ironic."  I pushed away, whipping my hands out and away from him.  And I rushed out of his flat, into the busy California streets.  It was colder than usual, so I tugged my wind breaker tight around me, not knowing whether my trembling was from him or the wind.
And I walked away.
______

Years ago, when he and I had just met, we were sophomores at an uptight private school.  We didn't have any classes together, but his and my lockers were right next to each other.  So each day, we would be at our lockers and we would say hello.  Every day.  For the entire year.
I never thought of him as anything other than an acquaintance until he approached me during the first week of junior year.  His hair was really long, licking the base of his jaw and swept up away from his eyes.  It looked messily beautiful.
     He leaned his hands against the outdoor table, an odd gleam in his eyes that matched the crooked grin plastered to his face.
     "Violet, right?"    He wore a deep red t-shirt with a high v-neck.  But I couldn't stop staring at his eyes.  They were such a clear, dark green.  I had never seen something so amazing.
     I nodded, stiff with surprise.
     "We had lockers next to each other last year."
     I nodded again.
     He stood up straight, adjusting his shirt to fall against the rim of his navy black jeans.  "Zaylen."          He coughed slightly, a pink blush sweeping under his eyes.
     I nodded, unsure what to say.
     He cleared his throat, "Any ways, I was invited to this party," He waved his hand, "Or get together or something..."  He caught himself, "And I thought, I dunno.  If you wanted to come, I could introduce you to some people."
     "Are you saying I don't know any one?"  I spoke before my mind could stop myself.  I winced at how mean I had sounded.  He seemed unfazed as his grin returned.
     "No- no, it's just..."  He glanced to the side and leaned in, "Everyone talks about you, but I barely see you with anyone."  His endless eyes stared into my own, "So you should meet everyone who is talking about you."  Zaylen shrugged his hand into his front jean pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.  As I opened my mouth in protest he unfolded the lined paper.  "My phone number, the party's address and the password to enter."  He moved the paper towards me like a bribe, "This Friday, ten o'clock.  When you get in call me and I'll meet up with you."
     "What if I'm busy this Friday?"  I inquired as I rose my dirty blond eyebrows.
     "Well you are."  He tapped the paper, "You're coming to a party and you will hang out with me and you will have a great time."  Before I could respond he began walking away, and that was the first time he looked over his shoulder grinning wildly, "See you Friday, Vi!"
______

I hated how when I met up with him he placed his hand flat against my shoulder blade.
I hated how coolly he introduced me to every one.
I hated how he brought me drinks with the cap sealed tightly and unopened.
I hated how he shoved some guy who was intoxicated off of me.
I hated how he didn't drink anything, and how he got me home safely.
I hated how when he stopped the car he leaned across the arm rest and brushed his lips so gently across my cheek that it felt like a rose petal.
I hated how he told me he'd call me so we could hang out again.
I hated how I nodded dumbly and said yes.
I hated how he made it seem like he cared about me.
______

Zaylen didn't formally ask me out until we had hung out a total of nine times.  He explained to me, that proper etiquette was to wait until we had met up the same amount of times as his favourite number.
     "For good luck."  He said smiling.
     I said yes.  And we went to parties.  And we stayed at his place.  And we toured around Cali.  We went to the beach almost everyday, running into the endless waves and falling back into the velvet sand.
     There we lay one day, huffing and out of breath.  We were on our backs, staring up at the pale pink setting sky.  I turned my head and looked at him.  God, I loved looking at him.  He had tiny water droplets that lay on the tips of his thick black eyelashes.  He blinked and turned to me.  But there was something different.  He looked at me, and it felt like he was placing a blanket around me.  I felt secure.  We had been together for almost a year.  But it felt like I wasn't caring about him less, but intensely more.
     "I'm in love with you."  I didn't see his lips move, but his low voice echoed through my ears.  He and I had told each other we loved one another a few months ago, but to hear that he was in love... I felt it.
     Zaylen and I stared at each other, and he didn't give me a look as though he was expecting me to say it back.  But I did.  I said it so many times.
______

Senior year took us by surprise.  College applications had to be going out, parents were fumbling and being melancholic about how they'll miss their kids.  I had already said goodbye to my parents because Zaylen had convinced me to move in with him in a new apartment.
     We went through school focused, but coming home to him gave me such euphoria, that I couldn't believe how much I loved him.  I loved Zaylen so much that it physically hurt.  My heart would race, my stomach would churn, and my legs were immobile.
     But he was there to catch me.
     He always caught me.
______

After a few months, he would get home and be quiet.  He wasn't eating as much and sleeping more.          He had permanent black lines under his eyes, and he never seemed energetic.
     We still went on walks, but his excitement for life seemed drained.
     We sat on the dock on a Sunday.  I remember it being a Sunday because I pointed to the horizon, trying to cheer him up.  "As the last bit of sun fades into the horizon, Sunday becomes Monday."
     He tried to smile.  He really did.  But it seemed fractured.  He kissed my temple.
     When he got back to the apartment, he sat down on the love seat.  As I was about to go to the bedroom he called me.  "Vi."  He sounded weak.
     I remember freezing.  I was scared suddenly.  I knew something was happening.
     "Can you come sit down, Vi?"  Zaylen's voice cracked, and I hesitantly moved towards him.
     I sat about a foot away from him, but he shuffled closer to me.  His long hair strung in front of his eyes, and he seemed to fade out looking at the carpet.  I pulled his hands onto my lap, and I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand.  He squeezed my hand with reassurance, and looked up in response.
     "I did what you asked."  I blinked, not understanding what he was talking about.  He nodded his head slightly, "Therapist."  A wave of realization shot through me as he continued, "To try to feel better.  It's kind of working.  Sometimes.  I don't know.  They're going to be letting me try different medications."  I was crying suddenly.  I don't know why.  To hear his pain was so hard.  It felt like I was being torn apart.  "There are times where I feel better, but then it gets worse for a bit.  They said it's normal, but it's just hard."  His green eyes looked at me.
______

I hated how he wouldn't let me try to help him.
I hated how I couldn't understand why he was sad.
I hated how he couldn't explain it.
I hated how helpless I felt.  How I feel.
I hated how hopeless he was.
______

It was a few weeks after he told me he was seeing so many people about his struggles.  He thought that we should get a dog.  That maybe something love-able and cuddly would help.  I agreed completely.  She was a Finnish Spitz crossed with husky, and the tiniest pup you could imagine.  She was the runt, but Azzy was the sweetest dog that we could have hoped for.  She made Zaylen smile more.  And he was willing to take her on walks.  But the time with me was minimal.  I would offer to come, or to take her for a walk alone, but he insisted differently.
     After a few more weeks he became distant from Azzy as well.  Our attempt was beginning to fail.  That's when he sat me down again.  And this time he told me he was leaving.  That he needed an intensive therapy program where he would live for a few months.
     I knew it was coming, but I didn't stop crying that night.  I was also crying in my dreams.
______

I hated how he hugged me, and told me he loved me as he walked away with his suitcase.
I hated how he didn't want me to see him for several weeks.
I hated how the doctors and nurses didn't let me talk to him.
I hated how I got used to Zaylen not being in the apartment.
I hated how I felt abandoned, when he was the one struggling so terribly.
______

He was right when he said he'd be there for more than a few months.  I finished school and began prepping for a University I got accepted to.
     I began seeing my parents more,  They lived in the same gray blue house, with the same beige carpet.  As my mother handed me a teacup filled with steaming green tea, my stomach dropped into a pit of guilt.
     She sat next to me on the large floral couch, resting her free hand on my knee as she held her own cup with the other.  "Tell me, Vi, how have you been?"
     And I talked to her.  I told her about how painful it was without him.  How he changed, and how I want him to get better.  How I want my Zaylen back.  We spoke for hours, tears emerged from both of us.  Laughter bubbled from both of us.  Daddy didn't get home until around dinner, so I stayed with them that night.  A constant warm comfort stayed with me.  Even as I strode up the staircase into my old bedroom, which was now the guest room.  I was now a guest.
______

The first time I visited Zaylen, a dense silence filled the space between us.  I didn't force him to speak.  I didn't give idle chit chat.  So we sat, studying each other.  Finally he reached over to me, slowly placing his hand on top of my thigh.
     His green eyes sparkled, "I'm going to be discharged in about a month, Violet." I wanted to smile, to hug him.   To expel all the relief that had seized up inside of me.  But that's what it did.  It froze inside of me.  And I couldn't tell him how my insides twisted with joy, how my heart began thumping as though it hadn't for the past four months.  But he squeezed my thigh to tell me he understood.  He always understood.
______

When he was released from the hospital, I ordered dinner so we could have a calm evening at home.  We sat on the couch quietly, and I felt odd for a reason I couldn't pin point.  And when we went to bed it felt odd to have him by my side.
     When we got up in the morning it felt odd.
     When we went out it felt odd.
     And I couldn't figure out why.
______

When he told me to let him go, so he could fix himself, I did.  And I didn't hate him for it.  I hated myself.
     Everything I hated about him, I only hated myself for enjoying it.
     I hated myself because when Zaylen had gone away for the five months, I had gotten used to the creaking of the apartment.  I had gotten used to cooking for one.  I had gotten used to walking Azzy alone.  I had gotten used to being alone.
     And in that time, I had fallen out of love with him.
     The boy I was head over heals in love with, the boy who stole my heart at fifteen, who was my first love, was just that.  My first love.
      And I hated that I had torn that love a part.
______

He knew.  He could tell.  And I saw the hurt in his eyes every day until I kissed him goodbye.  I kissed Azzy goodbye.
     And as I know now, the time I had with Zaylen was magical.
______

I remember everything about Zaylen.  His hair, eyes, mouth, clothing, vocabulary, favourite food, favourite joke.  Favourite everything.
______

I remember when he took me out on the roof and we lay and stared at the fireworks exploding and popping above us.
______

I remember how he blushed when he bumped his hand against my thigh for the first time.
______

I remember his tiny freckles at the base of his neck.
______

I remember, but I will not let these memories consume me.  I loved him.  I always will.  And I love all the memories we had and made.
     But I'm not in love with him anymore.
     Even though I wish I was.
______

I don't know where he is anymore.  We stayed in touch for a month or so.  Then we kind of parted.  Not in a negative way.  In a way that said "I love you, and thank you."  The beautiful thing about first loves, is that that is simply what they are.  First.  That doesn't mean the last.   And as I, Violet Hatcher write this, I can tell you that I have fallen in love three times.  One, with Zaylen Daniels.  Two, with Azzy Daniels-Hatcher.  Three, with the person I'm with now.  Liam Adamson.   And I don't know if he'll be my last, and I know I will not have the same memories as I did with Zaylen, but that's okay.  It's okay because it makes every love unique.   Every love is unique.

Update

Hello reader.
Here I am again breaking the fourth wall.
Which is still really weird of me.

I haven't written anything in a while because I've been in a struggle.
Mentally at least.
But I wanted to tell you,
who ever you may be,
that I am planning on a short story
that will be released when I finish it.
I do not know when that will be,
but hopefully in the next few weeks.
If you want though, read my previous creations
and wait for my reveal.

Happy Halloween,
I hope it is as scary
bloody, frightful, and fun
as you wish it to be.

Another Secret

She walked down the dim road, arm wrapped around the girl whom she was best of friends with.
Her friend held her waist, and they laughed about nothing as the last light shut its eyes.
As they walked, they spoke about the future.  They spoke about the past.
And in a moment, the light from both of their eyes became solemn, and the girl let her arm drop off of her friends shoulders.
She tied her long curly red hair up into a bun, looking at her friend's deep brown eyes.
"Is it okay, that I don't tell you everything Sammy?"
Sammy brushed her black hair away from her face, letting the brisk air lick her cheeks pink.
After a few minutes, she nodded once.  "I hope you don't tell me everything.  Because if you did, you wouldn't have anything that was truly yours."
The red haired girl felt a wave of sadness slam into her gut, and she decided to simply sit on the cold cement sidewalk.
"I don't feel like anything is truly mine anyways."  She sighed.
Sammy sat down across from her, bringing her gaze to her friend's.  "You do.  It may not seem like it, but you do.  All the feelings you get when you see the boy you fancy?  That's yours.  The inhaling of icy air when you run?  Yours.  And the way you smile when you remember something that made you happy?  Absolutely yours.  Cris, you have so much that's yours."
Cris allowed doubt to cloud her eyes.
"It just seems that whatever I want doesn't matter.  A tattoo?  My mom promised it a year ago, it never happened and now she's getting one.  My friend got one before me when I have been wanting one for seven years."  She punched the ground, "Seven years, Sam."  Her hands clenched into fists.
Sammy fiddled her hands, unknowing what to say.
"Your hair is unique."  Sam ran her hand through Cris's icy red hair, pulling it out of the bun.
"It does nothing anymore."  She brushed away her hand.
"Your eyes are stunning."  Sammy was sounding exasperated now.
"They make me look placid."  Cris snapped back.
Sammy stood up, ruffling her own hair.  "Your clothes are so different and beautiful compared to others."
Cris stood up too, crossing her arms.  "That doesn't mean anything.  Everything I wear is baggy and black.  I look like a murderer, but I can't wear other clothes that girls wear! Like crop tops, or skirts or dresses or shit like that!"  Tears were pooling in her pale blue eyes now.
Sammy screamed now, shoving her friend's shoulders, "Well I can't tell you things you want to hear until you feel better, because you won't Cris!  People can tell you you're beautiful, it doesn't make a difference!  People can tell you you're talented in art, it won't help you feel better!  I can't do that for you!  I can't help, even though I wish I could!  Do you think I like seeing you so sad that you can't hold conversations well?  That you can't eat in front of people without feeling fat?  That you can't stop comparing yourself to other people?  I can't help that!"  Sammy was sobbing now, "I can't help that."
Sammy hugged Cris tightly, crying into her shoulder.
Cris didn't speak.
Sammy whispered in her ear, "That's what you need to do.  Somehow.  Remember the little things that are yours.  That make you happy.  That will help.  You can help you."
They were silent for a long time.  Letting the cool air wrap around them.
Letting them give themselves each another moment that was truly theirs.

Sleep

Lately I cannot tell
whether or not when I say
that I am tired
if it is out of habit
or if I truly am
tired.
I think I am,
mentally.
Yet I cannot sleep
without some form
of help.
So maybe this
is my mind speaking out
of how
this child
is tired.
She is tired of how
she'll blink away the
day
only to wake
to repeat.
And with this fatigue
that just will not leave
she'll fall asleep
in her world.

My Sunset

I will watch the sun rise
with the faintest memory
of how my lungs became filled
of the scarlets before me
and how when the light
grew above the hill
and draped my eyes
as I felt my heart fill.
I shan't forget how your eyes crinkled
smiling at me as I passed.
Even though my heart is thudding
from the shadow you had cast.
And I'll keep walking
with confusion swelling
and I will keep my mouth shut
because with you, there is no telling
how long you will see me.
But just like you,
the sunrise will fade
into the sky thaw we will watch.
And my heart will trade
itself for a cloud
to make myself feel light.
Even though without the sun
nothing, oh nothing will be as bright. 

Matthew

I first met this boy when I was living in the tiny shack that my mum excused for a house.  This house had one hallway when you open the sliding glass door to the very minimal space meant for a living room couch.  I guess it was more like an in ground trailer.

     The living room had somehow managed to fit an under stuffed deep red plaid couch that had frayed holes along the arms.  And if you stood behind the couch, you were already one step from the kitchen.  It held a mini fridge and a toaster oven.  And that was how we cooked.  

     But of course I didn't care then.  I was a six year old little girl who simply adored sprinting up and down the single hall way.  The single hallway that lead to two rooms.  As you walked down the narrow ply wood hall, to the left was the snug office.  Surrounded by a book shelf that lined the entire room, and was stuffed with a book in every space.  On the furthest side a desk was placed, taking up half the room.  As well as an overly large plush leather swirly chair.  

     I used to play simple games on the computer that lay evenly on the desk.  

     And if you walked to the end of the hall, you would enter the bedroom.  The single bedroom that held my mum and I.  I slept with her for the longest time, because we only had the single queen bed.  But as I grew old enough to be considered a woman, we sold the queen for two single beds. 

     I first met this boy when I was whirling in circles in the office.  The computer had gone to sleep and as I spun around, making myself sickly ill, I caught a glimpse of a boy's hair behind me in the reflection.  I tumbled out of the chair, toppling it over with fear.  I became scared, paranoid of what I had seen.  I hadn't truly seen someone, it was a trick of the light.  

     But as I fixed the chair and turned around, I practically ran into a boy who was a head taller than me, with sandy brown hair tousled in front of his hazel eyes.  He grinned then, pulling me into a tight hug, sighing with relief as he smelled my hair.  At that moment I couldn't figure out why someone would love the smell of apple so much, but today I could understand why.  

    He pulled away with me still in shock.  From closer up I could see he was a few years older than me.  He looked as though he was nine or ten years old.  He was very lanky, no muscle anywhere.  No fat either.  And he had high cheekbones that lifted as he smiled.

     "Danny!"  His voice was still quite high, but excitement laced through my name as he stared in disbelief.   I felt so confused as to who this boy was.  A neighbour?  A school chum I hadn't taken into consideration?  "Oh Danny, I'm so glad to finally meet you."  At this point fear struck through me that I didn't know him.  And that I never did.  I started to call for my mum, but as I did his eyes widened and he ran out of the room.  I sprinted after him, down the single hall and into the living room.  No door was open, nor window, so I knew he couldn't have left. 

    But as my mum came rushing in with soil on her knees and daisies in her grip,  there was no sign of him.  I told her what had happened, but she laughed and told me my imagination sure was wild. 

     But he was real.  I knew because he came again.  

     I wasn't as frightened, but I was still fearful of who this boy was. 

     As he kept coming, we would go outside into the forest surrounding the trailer and pretend to be professional archers.  Or we'd play hide and go seek until the stars shone our way.  Every time we'd play together, he would never come into my house when my mum was making tea or serving a meal. He told me he didn't want to intrude because she seemed like such a lovely lady.  Of what I told him about her.  I told my mum everything, and finally she asked his name. 

     "Matthew."  I would say proudly. 

     But my mom wouldn't smile at that.  Instead she would frown dubiously, turn back to the kettle or onions she would satee,   Never asking about him. 

     We became best friends as a few years went on.  We both were growing, and soon I was in middle school.  My mum didn't believe that this boy existed.  Every time I would promise he would come over this time, he cancelled and ran home.   We made a rule not to enter each others homes, that our home would be outside.  Together. 

     As soon as I'd get home from school I'd drop my bag and sprint out to the backyard.  There on the same chopped stump would sit Matty, and we would go off on our adventures. 

     It became ours.

     As we grew older, Matthew became quite tall.  He held the same shaggy hair that he had when I first met him, and the same stunning hazel eyes.   He did get more muscular, but thinly so.  I became jealous of his body as mine became curvier, but he would always reassure me it looked better than fine.  That it was perfect.  And not to take any crap from any girl or guy.  

     We didn't go to the same school.  His parents home schooled him, he would say.  And I was fine with that.  We saw each other plenty.  

     But whenever I would bring home some friends, I would check the stump and he wouldn't be there.  He wouldn't come out when I had company, he always said how he would be intruding.  Wrecking something so beautiful.  

     I told him he wouldn't be wrecking something beautiful because he was beautiful. 

     And I remember as we sat under the canopy of trees, he stared at me with a melancholy laced in his iris's.  It made me sad.  It made me want to know what was wrong. 

     But he barely spoke of himself.  He would let me talk about my petty issues with guys, and grades.  Eventually it became normal that we didn't talk about him.  

     It was like I was the main character of his book. 

     But as high school ended, he asked me what I would do now.  

     And I told him about the boy who asked me to move away with him. 

     And I saw the pride grow like a fire in his smile. 

     And I felt his love as he pulled me into his arms. 

     And I felt heartbroken when he pulled away

     and I saw something flicker. 

     Him. 

     He stared at me expectantly. 

     "Danielle,"  He started, "I didn't want to come over, but I think I should now.  I think I should."

     He gripped my hands almost as though he was pleading, but without hesitation I said of course.  And we went into the tiny cramped living space.  And as my mum came home with dirt on her face she smiled at me and sat so close to Matty that I thought she'd sit on him.  I gasped, fearful for a moment, but Matthew turned and grinned. 

     "Don't worry Danny."

     My mum leaned over and kissed my cheek, and I realised what was happening. 

     She was ignoring Matty. 

     But, she wasn't.

     She didn't see Matty. 

     Terror sliced through me, and I stood up suddenly, rushing myself for air. 

     Matthew raced out after me, grabbing my arm to stop me. 

     "Danny, I'm sorry!"  His eyes plead, waiting for me to say something. 

     "What's going on Matt, what the Hell was that?"  He winced at my words, but I had given him what he wanted;

      my voice.

      I trembled as he spoke fluidly. 

      "I love you and your mother so very much, Danny.  You need to know that.  And I am so absolutely proud of you for how far you've come."  His eyes were swelling with tears.  "And I'm so glad to see your bright future.  Please.  Please remember you have a brilliant future."  Confusion shuffled through me.  "Danny,"  He took a deep breath, "I'm your brother."  I was about to speak but he cut me off, "--Danny, mum had a miscarriage before she had you.  Several years before she even wanted to try again.  And daddy?  He left when he thought mum wouldn't get pregnant.  She found out she was with you three days after daddy left."  His face was faltering, "I wanted to grow up with you, so I waited here for you.  you have a life Danny."  I was shaking, crying with upset.  Disbelief. 

    "Matty, no.  No no no."  I was shaking my head aggressively, "No!  You're real, I'm touching you now!"  He looked down at his hands and he smiled sadly. 

     "That's because you saw me when we were so young.  You got used to me.  I'm so sorry Danny.  But I love you so incredibly much.  And I am so proud of you.  I want to watch you get married and have children, but I can't."  Pain flashed through his eyes, "Every moment I stay longer, it hurts Danny.  It hurts so much."  

     He was fading, in and out.  I hugged him tightly, feeling the fabric of his shirt disappear through my fingers. 

     "Matty, oh Matty I'm so proud of you too.  I never thought I could love someone as I do you.  You are the most incredible person I have met, and I owe so much to you.  I won't let you down, Matty.  I owe you so much.  So... so much."  My sobs were clouding my speech, and I shut my eyes tightly.  

     I don't know how long I sat there, but after a while I heard the door slide open, my mum coming over and rubbing my back. 

     "You okay, sweetie?"  I nodded numbly. 

     

I dream of him often.  And I still love him as I hold my son in my arms.  I still love him as I hold the hand of my husband.  I still love him. 

     

     Matthew, I regret that we didn't get to have a life together, but every time I feel a pressure on my hand I want you to know that I think of you.  I think of you watching me grow up and even though I'm still so much a child, I love you no matter what.  I love you Matthew.  

Their eyes were battling each other, the rage sent waves around the empty room,
with nothing in it except packed boxes.
He came home when she wasn't finished packing.
When she wasn't finished saying goodbye.
And he stared at her with anger flowing through his veins, "You've had enough time.  Get out.  Now." 
He flicked his white cuffed wrist to the elevator door, venom dripping from his mouth
like a savage dog.
And she stared at him with disdain, tears flowing freely as her mumbled words made her sound as worthless as she felt. "I'm not ready yet."
This time he began shouting, feeling his heart welting with the frustration that filled his heart
every day
for the past
few
weeks.
"I don't want to see you, Anna!  Get the fuck out, now!"  He stepped closer to her now, taking in the deep brown hair.  Instead of it being neatly pinned back, it was now wavy and full of frizz.  Her once full eyes were empty and heartless.  He felt heartless too.
She gripped the edge of one of the boxes, sputtering, "Please, I can't go yet.  How do you know--"
He gripped her arm, dragging her to the elevator door.  And with the press of the button, the elevator slowly drifted up to the suite.
She cried out, falling against him.  Feeling deflated. 
And he held this woman.
The woman who he felt in love with for the past seven years.
The woman who showed him the world.
Who showed him love.
True.
Love.
He held this woman, feeling her embrace one last time, before she would drift off like the ocean.  Being free.  Truly free.
She looked up at him, her hollow green eyes meeting his with heartbreak.
And he brushed his fingers down her face so gently,
she could've mistaken it for rain.
And then he tugged his finger against her lip, ever so slightly.
"But," her voice was hoarse, "How do you know when it's love?" 
His eyes widened, with reality.
What was love?
Was this terror of a relationship not real?
A facade?
Her pleading eyes bore into his.
But his anger still boiled.
Her rage was still inflamed.
As so when the elevator dinged, he moved Anna into the metal box.  And left before she could watch him as the doors shut.
And he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
And took it as a shot.
And as he curled up in bed
his face was burning hot
from the tears that stained his cheeks
and the pain from the weeks
he was now being torn
from what she said
about the confusion
how love felt dead
and when he woke
he had some gin
mumbling what she spoke
the chance of sleep was slim
each day carried out
little shut eye
many tears
one day
he couldn't try
so he took some pills
and lay his head
after downing some whiskey
his limbs like lead
and he wrote
I quote
"My dearest Anna,
love
is a fanatical word
because people have assumed
that it can sum up a mess
of emotions
but
do not use it in vain
do not
utter it
with uncertainty
I love you
and when I say love
I mean
you make my heart stop
when you look at me
even if you don't
it feels as though I'll vomit
and my shakiness is terrible
and won't stop for hours
even when
you're long
gone.
And I love you
because
when your name is said
my stomach
it flutters
but the problem is
I love you
to the point
where
it
physically
hurts
when I'm not around you
and when you see me
but don't speak to me
I'm getting torn a part inside
and I pray you don't see my corpse
lifeless
loveless
but
I need you to see this
because I was
angry
I still am
but it wasn't with you
it was with my pain capacity
I was broken
I am broken
and I
can't
be
fixed
because
I'll just crumble again
and Oh, Anna
dream well
live well
live free
of strain
and sadness
and anger
and restlessness
watch the ocean
I see it in your eyes
watch the ocean.
With more emotion than you could possibly comprehend,
yours,
but not yours,
Evan James Parker."