It’s 2016 and I’m trying my best to do some “best practices” for this year. One of it is to hone my writing skills. It has been quite a while since I’ve written something, I’ve only began writing poems again.
Today, I discover this amazing website that posts photos as writing prompts. So today, I tried it, and I will diligently try my best to follow it every week.
So here it goes.
We said our final goodbye in a cold rainy night. We sat at the bus stop with bowed heads, listening to the splattered rain drops. For a moment, there was peace between us, the kind of peace that comes over when a heavy burden is lifted. After the screaming match, the endless blaming, and the tears – we were both exhausted. There was nothing left for us to fight, not even the love we once felt would last us a lifetime.
Earlier, I ran out the door, slamming it behind me, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room. It only took a few seconds for me to hear his footsteps behind.
“It’s fucking raining,” he said angrily.
I find it amusing that the weather decided to rally behind our feeling of anguish. Cliché, I said to myself.
I didn’t care. I wanted to go as far away from him as possible. I ran to the sheltered bus stop, and pretended he wasn’t right behind. So there we were, sitting silently.
“It’s late,” he said gently, after what felt like hours. “Let’s go back inside,” he added.
I was still sniffling; part of me knew that the bus isn’t coming until morning but part of me just wanted to be left alone. Running to the bus stop was a stupid thing to do; I didn’t have anything on me, not even a purse, just my jacket.
I stood up and he followed suit. I step out onto the rain, waiting for him.
“This is it,” I whispered. He didn’t hear me. Both of us were getting drenched in the rain by then. He tried to take my hand, I took a step back. I finally had the courage to look him in the eye.
“I’m done, we’re done,” I shouted against the rain. His face was full emotions, but he didn’t say anything, and just nodded.
“Let’s go back inside,” he replied.
“No, I need you to say it. This time, it’s done. I can’t, I just can’t,” my voice was shaking now. The tears are falling again. He looked hurt and he was angry.
“Fine, we’re done!” he shouted. “I won’t stop you anymore, you can walk out of my life, I won’t stop you.”
He took my hand; I was too stunned to react. Hearing him say those words cut like a knife. I knew it was over between us, even before we started shouting at each other. But, hearing him say it, it was a kind of pain I couldn’t understand. I said it first, and I made him say it.
He dragged me, running towards his apartment door. He closed the door behind us and faced me. He took my lips and kissed me hard. His body was pressing me to the door, and my natural reaction was to kiss him back. His mouth was screaming warmth and I held him. He abruptly stopped, “I love you, and we’re done. It’s a fucking tragedy because I wanted it to work out with you.”
We said our goodbye in a cold rainy night. You stormed out and closed your bedroom door the way I closed the doors to our heart. I am shivering from the cold but my face is warm from the tears.