❝…❞
                  she stands, still as water ;
                  calm within the ocean’s
                  walls. optics, flared with
                  amber & hazel coating
                  over confusion, loss -
                             sadness.

                ❝do you honestly believe-❞
                 a pause. she licks & bites
                 her lips. brows furrow.

               ❝that just because i have not
                  loved in the extent that you
                  have… that it means i have
                  not loved at all?❞

                  she frowns for a few moments.

                ❝you don’t understand the first
                  thing about me. you’ve never
                  even tried to understand the
                  desire, trust… fondness that
                  graces my heart when i close
                  my eyes & think about you,
                         about us, darling.
                  but you choose to read the
                  fragments of me that prove
                  insignificant. i never voiced
                  that i loved my father..you
                  read that it was him, who i
                  mentioned. family love is
                  not the same, but my point
                              is, marlowe.❞                  

                  fingers loosely wrap around
                  his wrist. she glances down ;
                  eyelashes pointing to the
                  ground, and she weaves her
                  fingers between the gaps of
                  his hand.

                ❝you don’t have to voice denial.
                  you can allow your walls to fade…❞
                  her gaze is calm & fingers still
                  clasp his hand with locked intimacy.

                  ❝& i know, deep down, you want
                   to.. however i also know that, that
                   stubborn little voice is in there, too,
                   telling you to be careful ; to keep
                   trust to a minimum, due to past
                   suffering, loss, angst & agony.❞

                 ❝but i can teach you how to make
                   that side of you dissapear, marlowe.❞

                     ❝and then, you can tell me what
                          i have and have not felt.❞

his father’s voice came trickling

into his head: “my dearest son… i ask

you again… are you certain that you

want to sacrifice your happiness for

the sake of others? think hard, think

long. you need not answer right away."

but he did. he had said yes without

another thought. strange that his father

asked him that when both of them knew

that there was no other way, that this was

how it was supposed to be.

-

naturally, his fingers curled around hers as

she reached out for him and he gave her a

gentle squeeze before prying his touch away.

the darkness that coiled around him sighed in

relief. darkness knew not of love. they never

would. “i can’t have this, miranda,” he said

sadly. “i really can’t." the doors cracked open

just a little, enough for her to see that he was

sincere: the exhaustion, the pain, the agony,

the guilt were all painted on his face like red

murder.