Ripping my heart from my chest I held it out offering it, still beating to you. Reluctantly, you took it from my hand and set it on the table.
Stunned, I watched you blankly stare back at me as if to say, “And?”
I thought the gift needed no explanation yet there you were…waiting. I glanced at the beating, dying organ on the table; each beat slower than the one before. You didn’t give a shit! I wanted you to give a shit. You shrugged; it wasn’t your heart after all what did it really matter? I wanted it to matter.
My eyes fluttered because that’s what the truth does; it makes your eyes flutter. Second looks don’t change the truth. My heart was the sacrifice to prove that I loved you.
Crazy how I thought that yanking my heart from my chest was all I had to do to hear you say, “I love you,” in return. Your lips remained still; no words uttered on behalf of my dying heart.
I wanted you to love me, but you didn’t; you couldn’t. Yanking my heart from my chest was just another futile act of suicide I’d played over and over, and my heart was the victim.
Love does nothing but leave hearts on the table, the spoils of foolishness. There you stood still, standing boldly in my face waiting for the answer to the question in your eyes, “And?”
Funny, I realized that I was begging for love from someone that wouldn’t even speak. Wouldn’t part his lips to say what he really felt. My heart was on the table and there was a gaping hole in my chest and I was DYING to hear the words, “I love you.”
Even as my heart continued to slow, I waited as you watched me in silence; mocking me with your stare of, “And?”
“Do you love me” I asked tearfully?” I so desperately needed to hear the words before my heart stopped beating. I remembered not so long ago, feeling so special when you kissed me. But I wasn’t the first or the only that you had kissed, and I wanted to be I wanted to be special!
“Do you love me?” I asked again.
You took a step closer our bodies nearly touching. Simultaneously, our eyes turned toward the table watching the heart as it beat ever so slowly. I prayed silently that the sight of my heart would give you the courage to speak the words I needed to hear.
“Do you love me?” I asked, perhaps you hadn’t heard me before. Then you turned, looked deeply into my eyes and with a stern quiet voice you asked, “Do you?”
No comments:
Post a Comment