– a mother’s cry, the way her voice quivers and how she takes your hand and squeezes it just as you start to wrap your tiny arms around her motherly frame, trying to save her. but there wasnt much you could do at the age of 7 so you just noticed how her shoulders shook as she slept and how her breaths came out as silent hiccuping whispers. this is how every already broken part in you broke even more.
– the breaking of a heart, my ears still remember the sound of the heart he so carefully held in his pocket falling to the ground as he moved closer to the girl in the blue dress. i remember my phone ringing and even on the call, i could hear the very sound of the heart breaking as my best friend tried to hold the tears in.
– typing of an ‘i love you,’ i hear it so often, it’s starting to feel like a hallucination. you don’t always get the words right, they’re slurry and drunk, and you sometimes seem to mix them with, “i miss you’s.” it keeps playing in my head like a broken record. i love you, i love you, i love you. but you don’t, and neither do i. it’s just a sound, remember?
– ticking of a clock, it’s a reminder how everything is temporary. every passing second is another mistake. you look at the person you were an hour ago and it becomes another regret. it’s a reminder of your birth or their death. it lives within us and it wants to be loved. we want to save it but it stays with no one.
– skin meeting skin, every clap scares you as you fear it’s happening again, it echoes in your ears till your hands start to feel sweaty. you flinch and you hide. but it was only supposed to be a clap? your hand meets with your own to create a sound so familiar to his hand meeting with your cheek. frightening, isn’t it?
– bottles hitting the windows, glass hitting the floor. that day, when i picked up the glass. it didn’t prick my fingers at first, perhaps because i didn’t realise it was glass. but now there’s a crescent shaped cut on the right side of my right hand’s palm.
– the house phone ringing because of you. the last time you called, i think, was in autumn. you didn’t want to talk to me. i could tell by the way you ended up stuttering when i picked up instead of her. i’m sure you tried making small talk, i cant remember right now. i do remember you asking me if i’ve been okay, i would say it’s because you cared and i was special but it was just always in your nature to love everyone. – t