shit happens

I was going to marry her.

She was packing her things now, carelessly ripping the clothes from the drawers and closet, shoving them into a suitcase. She was crying, yelling, and swearing. Was that a sorry or two? I wasn't paying attention to the noise, just watching her lips move and tremble. The way her face glistened with fresh tears, slightly dirtied by her makeup finally starting to smear.

I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she still was to me, even then, when she was saying awful things. Things I didn't want to hear, refused. She was leaving me but christ...she was beautiful.

I was going to marry her.

"I just can't do this anymore." She cried, grabbing her suitcase clumsily so it slipped out of her grasp and fell to the floor with a loud thump. "Goddamnit! Fucking..." she fumbled with the thing, finally pulling it up to her waist and holding onto it with two firm hands this time. Her watery eyes looked at me. "I'm sorry, I'm just not ready for this. I don't want to be with you forever, I can't do it. Don't look at me like that...You know I don't like being tied down to things." She breathes now, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath she took in an attempt to call herself down. She starts talking again, but I can't listen anymore.

I pull out a cigarette and lean back against the wall, lighting the end up and watching the smoke rise past my face. She always hated it when I smoked in the house but she didn't seem to care now.

"Are you even listening to me? Simone? Simone! Ugh I can't do this anymore, I'm done."

I was going to marry her.

She yanked on the suitcase and began to hurry as much as the heavy load would allow her too, she walked past me and I closed my eyes as the scent of her lingered in the doorway.

She was gone and the world felt distant now. The room felt so much lighter, emptier and cold. The messy blankets were mere reminders now of beautiful moments. The little notes on the mirror would surprise me, I would probably smile before realizing and then wash them off.  Every inch of this apartment was a reminder, with little moments and memories attached.

I think I should move, heartache is such a drag.