apart

“Love is an act of blood and I’m bleeding a pool in the shape of a heart”
-Dream Theater, Space-dye Vest

the pain is subdued – it would probably bubble to the surface and spring forth in tears if i let myself, but i won’t. i can’t afford to indulge grief, instead, i shall have to adapt. i was hollow that night after you left – i left a few tearstains on your pillow, perhaps, and tried to feel you with me as i huddled beneath the blanket and lay on the bed – your blanket and your bed, but you were not there. that was when my heart ached most, lying alone in the dark as i tried to conjure up a semblance of nearness and illusion of your being and the warmth that we shared once upon a time, an eternity ago that was mere hours past. i suppose it was because i was in denial and knew it, which really spoils the whole point of being in denial.

i left for home soon after waking late the next morning (sleep heals somewhat) – it seemed pointless to mope around in your house (which felt empty somehow) and dwell too much on the past, when, after all, the past is past and there were other things to get done. i drank the last can of nescafe latte that was in the fridge – our drink – and nibbled some chocolate while sitting on the floor of your bedroom and i was quiet and still with my heavy heart for a while, and then i went.

it was an unconventional parting, unconventional like every moment we spent together, and hectic from the start. i suppose it was somehow apt that a whirlwind romance should end (well the honeymoon period anyway) with a whirlwind of sorts.

the whole two days are somewhat blurry now. the images fuse and entangle into shapes and colors and sounds – grocery shopping, running around from shoe shop to shoe shop searching for the perfect pair of budget slippers, washing wet lettuce leaves, cracking eggs and pretending to be useful in the kitchen as you conjured up some sort of carbonara for dinner, the prayer meeting which i snuck out of halfway, sitting on my own on the swing, talking to god and watching stars and the night sky, the last mamak session and the roti bom we shared, meandering the streets past midnight onwards onwards onwards and sleepy-eyed, redesigning your pencil box with liquid paper and marker pens, watching the sunlight glimmer on the waves in pd as you gave me a piggy-back ride splashing through the shallows and feeling the white white sand soft and cool beneath my feet and gritty on my legs and how we waded hand in hand back to the shore trying to follow the sandbar from the little mangrove island in the fading light, two delirious lovers in their own little bittersweet paradise, ever attempting to push aside the knowledge that we were soon to part.

my heart blanked out on me as you ran around in a last-minute attempt to finish packing, because i didn’t want it to be real. the ride to klia was a dream, and the ticketing complications and last-minute scares were enough to push aside the reality of parting for the moment, because there were problems to be solved and things to think about other than love and leaving and leaving love. emotion finally surged back into my numbed heart as we prayed together and i babbled with wet eyes and clutched your hand tightly, not quite knowing what i was saying, only sure of what i was feeling.

and then it was time for you to go.

i didn’t want to let go, as we held each other tight one last time, but i did let go eventually and so did you, and i was crying inside and you knew it, as i gave you my wan half-hearted smiles and we looked into each other's eyes but we knew we had to take this path and so you disappeared down the escalator and across the vast empty cold hall and through the little gate, a small figure turning to wave and i waved back and it was vast empty and cold and i was an insignificant patch of empty coldness that filled the entirety of my world.

and then i turned around and walked away, away, away, as our entwined lives stretched in opposite directions, and distance faded into the burning ache in my heart.

i slept in the car on the way back, because i did not want to feel.

i wanted to write poetry, but i cannot. i have not the words. everything is yet too raw, and the reality of it all has not yet mellowed into eloquence of sorts and i cannot yet sufficiently express the beauty of this pain, the wounds that love inflicts, how we are embracing it all. i am sure that gems will be birthed out of this trial, but i cannot see beyond the silence of my heart, not yet.

i miss you.