“You are going to get yourself hurt, little boy,” I said in my head. You look at me from across the table, your eyes gleaming like a lighted candle in the dark. I look back at you, unfeeling. My heart is a void; it can cut you like a knife. You do not know this.
I break off eye contact, and keep quiet. My mind wanders from one scene to another like snippets of movie clips showing per nanosecond:
a kiss,
the sound of a heart beating,
walking away,
dying,
a spark,
fingers intertwined,
being left behind,
the fall,
standing up,
looking away,
going astray
“How come you don’t write anymore?” you ask me, interrupting my thoughts.
I am lost.
“It’s not me, anymore. I’ve let go of it.” I lied. The black hole that resides in my heart has swallowed most of my essence by now.
“I want to help you,” you told me; that night, all I could focus on was that lighted candle in the room.
August 26, 2014
For CGL
