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Untitled, please read


Mairi

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Untitled

Your hand was clammy as you reached for mine. You pulled me forth; running wildly ahead of me. I followed you with blinded adoration. Because the only thing you could have stolen was my heart, right?

You whisper to me nonsensical sweet-nothings. We’ll always be together. My hand slips from yours but my eyes are glued on the face I fell for. The scars that added character. They would smile by themselves when you did. Those deep green eyes. I swear they hypnotised me. Your dirty dyed hair; it would never sit properly, no matter how much effort and gel I put into it. But it was yours. Your tall stature would shadow me on warm days. But you were scrawny, too little fat stretched across too many bones. You looked ill. Maybe you were.

You grab my wrist and run faster. Your fingers locked around the small thin leather strap that once belonged to you. You said it looked pretty on me. It smelt of you always. Smelt of those perfect summer days when your arms would wrap gently around my waist and share my warmth. You were always so cold even in the warmest climates. Your skin looked blue under such heavy sunlight. Now your skin is burning; blistering with guilt. And your touch is violent and strong.

You scream at me for the first time. Faster. Your voice harsh with fear. I’m frightened now. A solitary tear leaks from my eye. You take no notice as you run faster; never tiring. You saw me cry once. I was scared then too. Scared of myself. Never then did you shout at me. Then you held me close, kissing away each salty tear. You kissed my scars. You said I didn’t need them. You said you would look after me. Your voice hushed. You sang. You sang our song. Your fingers gently combing my hair; the thin strands slipping through. I knew my cue and I joined in with you. We would always sing together. Just like in our song. Your voice so beautiful, like a wave flowing through my ears. Maybe I misheard it. Maybe this is what it really sounds like.

You pull me into a run-down building. Crumbling at the edges. It reminded me of your smile. Your teeth were straight, naturally. The sides of your mouth always quivered though, as if it were all fake. You rarely smiled. I never knew how to make you happy. All my silly antics and love never seemed good enough. You would occasionally curl up the corners of your mouth merely to stop my anxiety. The same script would always be repeated. Are you having fun? Are you ok? What’s wrong? Yes. Yes. Nothing. Your token distant gaze intrigued me. Now your eyes are on me; frantic. Searching.

You bring out an object. A gun. Your hands are shaking. I’m worried. I’m scared. I tell you; you merely ignore me and hush me. You were always the sane one. You always looked after me. Now you search into my pale glazed over eyes. You look frightened. You look young. I love you. You’ve said that before. Only once. That day when I broken down in your arms and you sang to me. You told me I was beautiful; that I was too good for all this, too good for you. Now you’re holding this gun and I don’t know which one of us is more frightened.

You explain. I don’t pay attention, I’m counting all the things about you that I love. I don’t care why you did it. I love you. That’s all I say. You kiss me harshly on the lips and it feels like the whole building is crashing around us. Those lips that I know better than any other place. I long to reminisce with you over better times. But not now. Now there is too little time to waste with such meaningless longings.

You. You tell me you love me. Again. Again. Knock knock. You turn to glance at the door. Quickly shift back your gaze onto me. I love you. We have little time. We’ll meet again. I need you to be safe. This is the only way. I nod. I finally understand every word of your sentences. I take the gun from your shaking, weak hands. I love you. Bang.

Because you’re coming after me. Of course. Right?

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