I look at you, and I no longer recognize who is staring back at me. The eyes that brighten up your face do not have the same spark that once set them on fire. Your lips are spilling words that sound both different and wrong out of your mouth, and it is if you are speaking a foreign language. The hands that used to hold me gently are now locked at your sides as if they do not remember me.
My heart is in mourning for the man that we both have lost, and I wonder if you miss him too.
YOU ARE READING
Stories That Never Get Told
General FictionThese are the stories of the things that have been, could have been, and should have been. They needed their voices to be heard, and I'm doing the best I can to give them that.
