I wrote this almost a year ago. It's still one of my favourite things to read, and I do so often. Sometimes broken hearts never fully heal. It's comforting to recall a moment of calm. Where love is still avidly present, even if a happy ending isn't.
He stood, perched by the window, hands planted on the sill, as they usually did. And me, still lying naked in bed, watching, as I usually did. I had always observed him with such fascination, the way he seemed so fixated and yet so far away at the same time. But content. It was rare to ever find him in such a state, and if you did, it was fleeting.
This morning he was singing-- he was always singing-- but never this song. I sat, my eyes locked on the profile of a face I had memorized ages ago, listening.
Realizations hit you at different speeds, various weights. This one was swift and left me winded, but upright. As if I had seen it coming, and had time to plant my feet, breathe deeply, and swallow. The truth fell on me like the sun, warming it's way through the open window and spreading itself across our wrinkled sheets. Blinding at first, but strangely settling.
And there it was. I wasn't going to spend my life waking up to that face; the sound of his song, his body framed by the light of our bedroom window. And despite it's current rays casting his shadow at my feet, the sun had finally set on us.
But he continued to sing, and I continued to watch his lips move, holding tightly to his words…
Go away from my window,
Leave at your own chosen speed.
I'm not the one you want babe,
I'm not the one you need.
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