I know that I hurt you more than anyone else I know. I try assuaging my guilt by drinking from a bottle of wine. It’s three in the morning, and here I am, hoping I can cry, but the tears don’t fall. I’m usually a happy drunk, but tonight I’m bitter, caustic and sorrowed. Love eats you alive sometimes like rust eats iron. I’m jaded and put on a nineties rock album hoping it will make me feel better. It doesn’t help, and I tune up the volume. I don’t worry about waking my neighbors. I feel angry and violent. I hurl the bottle against the wall, and it breaks into pieces with red rivers running between them. I guess it represents us in some twisted way. It kills me that the passion we once had fell apart, and now lies like broken shards, wounding us each time we try to hold it again.

I know you like to hold it in, wanting to be tough, lest your vulnerability comes through. And not because you are a coward, not because you can’t face your emotions. But because you wish to be strong. Strong enough that the pain doesn’t cripple you, and strong enough to rise above. But I know you’re only human. And that pain is what makes the fabric of life. So yes. Feel the pain let it embrace you until you struggle no more. But learn from it too, because it was your anger that drove us apart; your need to keep in inside until it explodes. That’s why we were never able to glue us back together. Know I’ll help, be there to pick up the shards of what was left of us. In hopes to save myself and who I know you can be. But it’s also to ease my own guilt. Selfish, in fact. Only because I know this kills you inside and I know I’m the reason why.

© Nitin Lalit Murali and Kristen Corbisiero (2019)

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