Time doesn’t make love anymore real. Ten years doesn’t mean any more than one. It isn’t logical to say so but it’s true.
Sweet smiles and pats on the back, laughing until your stomach hurts, gossiping and sharing secrets- doesn’t mean shit.
Life gets hard and you will see who really cares when your lying on the bathroom floor because your heart is utterly broken and the only thing that keeps you from disintegrating is hearing snippets of them on their voicemail.
You see who’s really there when it’s all too much and your brain is going to explode. When you want your mind emptied but the only thing your body is capable of doing is emptying your stomach.
You will see it in the blase three worded texts “I’m so sorry” or “that really sucks”. These will shake your hallow bones because they entirely lack substance at a time when all you need is someone to fill you up with happy things. To tell you over and over again what your worth until you’re filled to the brim with exuberance, until your entire body from flesh, to bones, to heart – is no longer desolate, and for them to not stop until your overflowing with positivity.
And then you will know that numbers; like age and distance and time do not mean a thing, because if more time meant more love then you wouldn’t have to beg them for more than three words.
And when lack of empathy makes you bitter towards them after so many beautiful years they will start to wonder why. You’d be grateful that your eyes were finally open and you would promise yourself you’d keep them that way.
Ten years doesn’t matter when the person you thought you could trust with literally everything, doesn’t actually give a fuck.
And you can’t believe that all this time you hadn’t noticed the silence between you, hidden under the laughter like a key tucked away under an old floor board.
The very key that locked the box where every last trace of their sympathy, every last fragment of their emotion was hidden. You wonder if the key was put in a place where it could be easily found or if it’s lost forever. But it doesn’t matter because you have homes in other bodies and it’s time to move on. Yet days will pass so painfully slow that you will have to check to make sure years haven’t gone by and you will begin to wonder why this all happened in the first place. You honestly can’t remember.
So when your shoulders brush against each other as you cross paths by mere coincidence (an accident- you swear), you remember all the feelings you used to have. And forgive yourself if you let your eyes flutter closed, because not even tape or glue could fight the intoxicating bliss of being invited into your old home. Your eyes close. And being blind never felt so absolutely euphoric.