Featherweight Love

Chapter 1: Beginnings

Our house sat alone on a long country road, somewhere in the arse-end of nowhere. It's one of those small cottage-type houses; thatched roof, small windows crafted from nearby ancient trees, the classic "DING DONG" doorbell. If someone was to say: "Cute Countryside Cottage", our house is that - exactly what it says on the tin.

I suppose that's the reason we bought the house; we fought so desperately to get this house, to live out in the world and away from life. We earned this, I'm sure. It's kind of funny when you think about it. We spent so much time and energy on isolation, on absolute aloneness, and yet I wonder why sometimes, in the middle of the night, I feel so unbearably lonely, like no one else is there. That's not true of course - I have Michael.

Where do we begin. Michael. Michael is the very person I never thought actually existed. He's so unnaturally kind and loving; too kind for what I'm worth. I never was the romantic type. But something about him stumped me the first time we met. I had spent all my life feeling very vague, neither here nor there, very in the way but never involved; I was one living, breathing grey area. But when I first looked into his eyes, eyes like fire burning under icy water, I suddenly felt completely right. In the right place, the right body, the right mind. If thoughts could hug, then I was drowning in him. He's a tall man, 6'1-or-2, with short brown hair that has a few kinks and curls that sort of frame his Roman face like a fresco. 

                            There isn't much to say when the words die,

Atrophied from the moment lips part,

                             Still I extrude them out with force;

They take no absolute shape - 

                             Sort of wriggle around,

Blacken then crumble,

                             End up trying,

Then failing - 

                             We sit,

Mute.

I call that one "Dust Bunnies".

I think it's sort of fitting for where we are right now, in our relationship. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, we fit together, like puzzle pieces. Well, now that we have the bigger picture, a complete jigsaw, the image we see is less than encouraging. Lustreless, bland, dusty. What is the point of trying to speak, when your words can't be heard? He used to make me feel complete - there were times when all I thought about was him - but lately something about him has been off. And the worst part is that there is no real reason. He isn't unfaithful, cunning or passive aggressive; we could have fixed those problems, or overlooked them at the very least. But I get that same vague feeling that I used to get before we met when we look at each other. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces don't fit. 

'But it wasn't suddenly' 

It wasn't. That makes it worse too. This was a long time coming, I guess. 

I don't want our relationship to end. I want to be with him - the problem is, I don't think he wants to be with me anymore.

That would explain the dreams...