citysaviour.

_{what  once   was  a  weekly  visit  has  slowly  shifted  into  sparing  monthly  ones   –   guilt  weighing  down  chest,  he  could  never  forget  her  ;  she  haunts  his  thoughts  &  floods  his  dreams,  but  these  visits  have  a  toll  on  him  that  one  could  never  begin  to  explain.   HIS  LOVE,   buried  in  dirt  ;   lifeless.   he  cannot  shout  over  how  unfair  it  is  any  longer,  no  matter  how  much  he  wishes  it  was  him  instead  of  her.  he  cannot  sit  at  her  grave,  sullen  &  grief  struck  for  hours  on  end,  no  matter  how  cold  it  was.   he  must  remember  her,  not  grass  &  a  rock.  because  EVERYONE  says  time  heals,  everyone  says  he’ll  be  okay  –   but  it’s  been  a  year,  he  only  feels  worse.   why  does  he  get  to  move  on  with  his  life,  when  she’s  stuck  here  ?  no  matter  much  time  has  passed,  everyone  is  wrong.   time  doesn’t  bring  her  back.}

_{he  senses  someone  behind  him  as  he  sets  flowers  down,  wordlessly   –  he  waits  for  the  other  to  speak,  lump  growing  in  throat.  he  is  incapable  of  telling  anyone  he’s  in  no  mood  to  talk,   instead  he  keeps  back  turned  towards  her  for  as  long  as  he  can,  balled  fists  resting  in  pockets  clench.   he  recognizes  her  instantly,  yet  her  voice  is  so  soft  &  so  unlike  mary  jane,  he   expects  her  to  look  different  when  he  turns  around,  too  –   it’s  almost  surprising  that  she  looks  the  same,  only  sadder.     ❛   hey  —   ❜    he  cringes  at  his  voice  breaking  ;  unaware  of  watery  eyes  until  hot  tears  are  streaming  ‘pon  cheeks,  sob  wracking  his  body,  he  buries  his  face  in  sleeve.}

  _{she  smiles  weakly  –  it  takes  more  effort  than  she  thought  it  would.  a  part  of  her  wondered  if  she’d  ever  see  him  again;  their  only  real,  interpersonal  connection  and  similarity  was  now  ten  feet  beneath  them.  everyone  else  has  seemed  to  move  on,  everyone  but  the  two  of  them.  it  wasn’t  fair:  how  EFFORTLESSLY  everyone  seemed  to  glide  through  life,  unaware  of  this  tragedy  that  had  struck  so  many.  she  wanted  to  yell  at  strangers  on  the  street,  to  tell  them  they  had  nothing  to  be  happy  about.  that  it  was  all  a  lie,  that  one  day  the  party  ended  rather  you  were  ready  for  it  to  or  not.  and  when  it’s  over,  no  one  will  be  there  to  help  you  stay  and  pick  up  the  pieces.  with  harry’s  disappearance,  she  had  no  choice  but  to  get  through  this  on  her  own.  and  that’s  exactly  what  she  did.}  

 _{his  pain  is  VISCERAL.  it’s  clear  without  a  doubt,  that  whatever  depression  she  had  endured,  his  was  infinitely  worse.  and  she  knows  as  she  wraps  her  arms  around  him,  nuzzling  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  there  wasn’t  anything  she  wouldn’t  do  to  take  that  pain  away  from  him.  she’s  never  seen  him  cry  before  –  it’s  so  raw  and  contained,  for  a  moment  she  wishes  she  could  do  the  same.    she  doesn’t  know  how  to  be  there  for  people,  but  the  gesture  feels  instinctive.  familiar.  as  if  they’ve  been  here  before.  ❛   it’s  not  your  fault,   ❜   she  hears  herself  whispering.   ❛   it’s  not  your  fault,  ❜}