I started to tell you a story but I looked into your eyes and it was empty. There was no fertile ground in your heart for the words I had to say; and so I made up another. This time, pure fiction. You laughed in the right places, made faces where necessary but your heart stayed unmelted.
I bid you goodnight with a kiss on the cheek. I hugged you tighter than i have ever done. I said all the right things to make you feel better. I held your hand for a little longer than I would normally do but your heart remained unmoved.
I lie in bed now and tell the story that i wanted to tell you tonight to myself. It is a true story unlike the one I made up earlier. It is the story of how I have fallen in love with the sadness in your eyes. It is the tale of how my heart beat faster the few times you have ventured to smile since she left you. It is a narrative of how I want nothing more than to be enough for you.
There are some love stories with not enough hearts. There are some tales whose beginnings are but stillborn. There are some narratives whose times have not come.
I tell the story that was meant for you to myself. I listen in the silence that only night can bring and realize how much is missing from this tale. There is no theme, no plot, no setting. There is just you broken hearted and me, waiting in the wings to make it all better.
I smile to myself in the dark as I think of how much better this story could be with a little time. Your heart will heal. You will forget the way she smelled. The tears you will cry in days to come will drive away the emptiness from your eyes. The pain you will feel when you accept she won’t be coming back will leave your heart a fertile field for seed; seed that is me.
I saw a new dress in a boutique window yesterday. It was in your favorite color and my perfect dress size. White for a clean slate, a new beginning; 8 for an unbroken circle, a regeneration…
‘Once upon a time, there was a white dress…’
A beginning as good as any…