The sickness. The revelation that the subconscious mind can bury your secrets so well that even your conscious mind can’t find them. The stomach turning. The imminent anxiety. Douse it. Lose it all in the three dollar bottle of chardonnay from the gas station. No good, the tears have loosened themselves up and have convinced your eyes to set them free. No such thing as crying before tonight, now you have to punch yourself in the gut as hard as you can to dry up.
That song. That evil, melodic song. Which one? Flames. It’s all that song’s fault. Relistened to it for the first time in years tonight and it flooded my brain with our handful of memories. Been sitting in a trance-like state since its advent. It’s on repeat. You were the only one I knew that loved that song as much as I did. You are the only one that I’ve ever fallen in love with and couldn’t admit it to myself.
That time next to the river, our second time ever being together. We lay in the grass next to each other. I invited you to my wedding and you said you wouldn’t go because you didn’t want to cry. I laughed it off and playfully punched you. Why did I never give that simple sentence one iota of thought? You loved me too, didn’t you? Why didn’t you say anything? God damn you. Why did you say nothing?
Those times we talked on the phone? I’d never met anyone that made me laugh as much as you. We clicked from the very beginning. And now? Now you ignore me. I don’t even get the satisfaction of staying in contact with you.
We’re married now. To dim shadows of what we loved about each other. The vomit rises up in my throat. My heart races my boiling hot blood through my body now. It could have been you. It could have been. It would have been. If only we both weren’t so good at keeping secrets.