Words don't come easy do they? You can tell when you feel a certain way; it creeps up in your gut, in every thought, it courses through your veins, but how do you express these emotions that are so raw, you can hardly understand them yourself?
Your breath is shallow and your vision is blurred. The images that flash in your mind are always there. Consuming you. Tormenting you. They are reminding you of what you could've had. Of what could've been.
You shudder and act as if nothing happened. You weren't just imagining the life you wanted to lead. You take a step back and look at what you do have. A home, money, food, water. All your basic needs are being fulfilled, but that's not what makes your stomach flurry and brings the crease of a smile to your cheeks.
You may have what many people in the world lack, but at the end of the day you know that you can never be happy without him.
You have no will to get up in the morning because you know he won't be there, lying next to you in a peaceful slumber. His body warmth won't be emitted, heating you up. His golden skin won't be glowing, and his long dark eyelashes won't be fluttering. His cheeks won't blush. He won't stir, turn over and with heavy-lidded eyes look up at you like you are his everything. He won't press up to you, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by a cold breeze gusting through the open window. He won't mumble something unconsciously into your chest. He won't take your arm, wrap it around himself. He won't close the distance between you. You won't mold into one.
You are alone. He is not there. He is with someone else. Blessing them with his presence. Shining them his cheeky smile, making them laugh at his ridiculous jokes, laughing at theirs.
You had your chance and you bottled it. The hard man exterior was all an act. The moment there was the chance of vulnerability, you couldn't deal. You had to escape as a pressure started weighing heavy on you. When he grazed his hand over yours in that club. His skin felt soft but electric. You felt your lungs starting to constrict. All you wanted to do was bolt. Take off into the night and never be seen again. So you did. You went back home, where he wasn't. You needed to breathe.
You left him, but you know he would keep coming back. He always came back to you. You knew it, he knew it. And he did. But you kept hurting him. You couldn't deal with the constant itch you had. He was the only one who knew of this itch. It made you weak and vulnerable. You made him bleed to keep him silenced. He got under your skin like no one ever had before. You needed him more than you needed air and that scared you unimaginably. You couldn't bare to spend a day without seeing him. But when he said those things. Made you feel that way. You couldn't handle it. You broke him down until he felt like he was useless.
He left. Said he'd never go back to you. You were the past. You were nothing to him anymore. The only thing you saw in his eyes, which used to shimmer like diamonds, was now hatred. A beady, black, all-consuming darkness.
But even when he looked at you like you were worthless, you still got that feeling. Like you needed him to be next to you. You needed him to be safe. You wanted him to want you like there was no one else in the world.
Then you found out that there was someone else. Soon that didn't matter, because the other guy had fucked up and there you were, trying to patch the situation up. You tried to be the knight in shining armour. You tried to show him that you were willing to try. You wanted to change. You wanted him to be there with you through the struggle. You didn't expect him to give in that easily, but he did. You should've known all along, but you the faintest bit of hope refrained you from thinking straight.
You kissed him in front of everyone you knew, to prove he was yours. This was the second time you had done that. The first time had only led to despair and purple bruises, which highlighted the pain you'd caused him.
His lips felt soft and submissive against yours, but there was something else there. Something you couldn't put your finger on. You shrugged it off, knowing that it would be best not to know. What was it they say, "ignorance is bliss"? Yeah, that's what you wanted.
He got you to sign that little deli, over to him completely. He was giving you a chance, you had to give him one as well. The solicitor left, and it was just you two in that club. Where it had all started. You wanted him then. It had been so long. You needed him close to you. You kneeled on the coffee table, not really caring if you were too heavy for the thing. You placed your hands delicately on the table, your palms sweaty, but unmoving, and you leaned forward. Your lips touched his and you felt an immediate pull towards him. You wanted to take him right there. Push him back onto the couch and prove to him that he'd missed out on you. Touch him in the right places, press the right spots, do the right things.
But he pulled away, said he had to get off quickly. He had a business to run. You should've gotten the hint. He'd never been able to say no before. Was he doubting that you could do it? Did he think that you weren't strong enough to stick it out? You needed to prove to him somehow.
You started to head home, trying to think up a plan. Do something that would show him you were in it completely. Show him you could be one of those soppy romantics. The thought sickened you, knowing that people would see that in you. But you didn't mind if that's what he saw. You could plan out a perfect evening just for him. Find a little opening, under the stars. The moon would be glowing, lighting up the ground, just enough for you to see. You'd put little candles on the ground. Add some rose petals. You'd talk to his ex, the mother of his kids, and get her in on it, after a lot of convincing. Then he'd come around, and you could see that shocked look on his face. That whole evening would be completely out of character for you, but you know that if it made him happy, it would be worth it. His eyes would shine brighter than the stars. He would smile and laugh like he did on the night of your first kiss. He would stick his chin out and make some snide, cocky joke, knowing that no matter what he said, you wouldn't be bothered, because at the end of the night, it would be just you and him, becoming familiar with each others bodies once again.
You had the whole evening planned in your mind, already feeling like it had already happened, but when you got home and saw that red envelope, tucked under your blue door. You were dreading opening it. A feeling of foreboding took over as you picked it up. You ripped it open. It smelled like him. Your eyes starting darting over the words. They pierced in your gut. Vicious, harmful, poisonous. He scammed you out of eighty thousand pounds. It was all a scam to get you out of his life. He wanted you gone.
When he'd kissed you, it had all been fake. You were just an object in the way of his happiness.
And now, you feel that pit at the bottom your stomach, just growing. The one that is always there to remind you that he's no longer yours. But soon that just becomes the normal. You learn to live with the pain. You learn to live with the constant feeling of loss and grief. You fake a smile as a courtesy to the people who surround you. You tell them what they want to hear, because you know that everyone will be better off that way. No one needs to know about the darkness that is constantly looming in your broken, dysfunctional heart.
No one needs to know.