Love Never Lost

O.K., let’s face it. You and I? We were never meant to be. This could never have happened the right way. You and I? We’re really nothing but two complete separates; two fatefully repelled, polarized items placed into this bleeding universe. Just two breathing components that had been dumped into a barrage of hysteria — pitiful and weak. We could have never been two. This is you and I, here. And you know what else? Right now, as we are, we are truly only two separate beings. Therefore, there is nothing left to discuss. I have nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing.

He grimaced at these last words. The furrow of his brow made his expression seem dismayed. However, this was of no concern. His persona certainly did not matter any longer.

“It’s alright. Deep breath.” He cleared his throat, and inhaled slowly…
“Moving on.”

You’re a liar…
A hypocritical, impudent, frightfully mesmerizing liar! Eternity is supposed to last and you ruined the hell out of it! You were never supposed to leave, not without me — not without everything I gave for you. This was not supposed to happen, and yet the ground in which I stand upon has unmistakeably been shattered, left for dead! And everything is to blame upon you. This fault is in your stained hands, in your being, and your strength is falling weaker still, with every breath you take. I dare you to forget what I’ve accomplished for you.

A scowl drew across his face as the memory recurred. The 24 year old held his own fair head cupped inside infantile hands. “Carpe diem,” he murmured to himself. “But which to cease…”

The boy withdrew a low sigh towards the stained carpet and close his eyes.

Soft, cotton sheets, rose petals, fallen upon the floor, slightly scented candles, and an enthralling, ravish grin. The faint, sweetened aroma, the slight of a light, grazing touch — and the spellbound glow of those bright eyes. The flowing tunes, skimming the outline of the room, carressing the sound of it all: rumbles heard within the feathered plush, and the heavy breathing of hurried animals. Their skins in constant friction — running, racing. The substructure on which they perform is soaked in fulfilling promise, along with the nature of the game containing a high chance for disappointment to strike. The sound of wounded prey crying loud in pain, and the predator does not stop, moving forward, and on with the race, and on with the hunt, and on with the game — and the push to survive wills on. Snatch. Whip. Scratch. Bite. Hiss. Scream. Terrifying motivations, and yet, the game continues. Pushing forward, never holding back, and thrusting with all possible might, both participants gasp in breathless hysteria. Concentrated desire, and yet, their drive has fallen short. And, although the game may be rough, to ease out of this yearnful tension is even worse.

Sentimental pain struck his beating organ as he opened his eyes, lying down. There he was, a disaster, planted inside a cocoon of white cotton sheets, immersed within the confinements of his own despair. Not only was he fazed, but also worn out from the insistent sobs caused by remorse. He found himself alone, feeling cold and unforgiven as a cool breeze had brought in voices from outside his apartment window. In a trance, he rolled off the bed towards the open quadrilateral. Temperature continued to drop, slowly and steadily, as this young boy sulked at the setting before him. There, he continued to stand contrast to the open air, gazing out into the lively street, where amorphous crowds would saturate into empty segments, and regroup once again in chronic sequence. The intersection thrived with life, like the rate of a constant heartbeat, while he, unlike the rest of the population, lived within a world of personal resentment. Placing a hand against the barren wall, he sighed at the sight of those walking busily down the street, full of purpose, intention – the feeling in which he envied and longed for.
A sudden pain surged through his veins so rapidly that his eyes were shut before he even realized, and right then, he remembered the open wound which was branded in his chest only a few, short days ago. Surely, he would not have been alone today, had he not injured her in scathing word or deed. But that moment is long gone, and every lie in which was told eternities before now made him realize the meaning in her last words. He could read her every thought when witnessing the frustration stream down her flushed and rosen cheeks…

“I’d rather know than be called blind, Joey… The heartfelt fire which we once had is now dwindling with little life, and you continue to try to blow out the spark with your chilling lies.”

With tears in his eyes, as she was saying her goodbyes, he was wasting away and holding back these imminent fears. He’s the only one to blame for everything. He can remember spending his every waking moment revert back to thinking of her smile, embrace, and laughter. And just like autumn would turn leaves, winter would breathe cold on their barren necks, blowing snow into their beds from time to time.

The shrilling siren of the passing ambulence in the street had broken the progressing silence held within Joey’s apartment. The soft knock on the door, however, made him jump out of his skin. Company was the last thing on his mind as he made his way towards the door. There was no doorhole, so he decided to answer. Unlock, unlatch, unlock, detach, unlock, turn. The creak of the door was the loudest sound ever made when his eyes met hers, triggering a rapid and hurtful beating to pump within his chest.

“Joey…” she whispered, her face crinkling into a sweet smile. “You’re still here, after all.”

His expression remained impassive. However, he knew that her very presence regained within his doorway — within his grasp — was like a prayer that was answered after a time of wishful thinking. He sized her frame from hair to toe, in shock with her celestial being. But he held his ground and remained silent, resuming eye contact with his lover.

“Joey, I’m sorry for leaving… Can I come in, please?”

Quiet.

“I hope you can understand why I did what I had done — it was all just too much,” she cried. “But I’ve realized that it was wrong to do — I was wrong.”

Joey continued the stare down. She fidgeted.

“You were right for me, and I was wrong to leave – I was wrong, Joey… and I’m sorry.”

She held her breath, pausing for a moment, severly anxious to see any sort of response that would reveal a path of leeway. Anything — a comment, a shuffle, even the blink of his eyes…

“You’re everything to me and I cannot say how regretful I am in the decision I made. I am so sorry. Please, please forgive me, Joey.”

He could feel the muscles in his face relax. The iron wall in which he built against society so many hours before had tumbled, fallen into crushed rubble as he held open his arms to his past. Lisa rushed for her first love, nevermore holding onto an ounce of her past once she felt his heartwarming embrace. Everything is here, everything she needed was within his being.  Joey is the only meaningful speck of the universe that makes the struggles worth the while. And they loved forever, their passion for each other never swaying. Everything from their lives before then was done and said in vain, for their connection to one another was a link so strong in bond that not even the universe could fathom its integrity.

He opened his eyes, and Joey felt the fireflies in his stomach flame on.

He turned his head eastward, and saw his woman lying beside him, fallen

asleep atop his pillows, and wrapped inside his cotton sheets. Lisa was

beautiful even as she slept. Turning his attention northward, the

ceiling seemed limitless.

“This is what heaven must be like”, he thought to himself.

Feeling a neverending high within his soul, he would not exchange a thing in the world to change the way this love has turned out.

About the Author
I’ve been writing since I was young girl. I write lyrics, short stories, and poems in my spare time, and whenever I find the inspiration to carry on with my pen. Words mean a lot to me, and I like to manipulate them into poetic signature. The English language is inspiring in itself, and I find it amazing that there is an opportunity, such as this, to share a piece of my very own work. I hope everyone enjoys the drama in this short story!

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