Unsaid

It was late after midnight when her body laid motionless and crushed like a branch of a young green tree in the cold bed. The water from her tears has evaporated and only salty traces and the crimson of her eyes were remnants of the past few hours. She had sobbed herself to sleep again. Night after night weariness and loneliness sucked all her energy and the once bright color of her cheeks. During the day she had tons of stressful work to do, but at least she was busy, social, useful.  Coming home was painful.

Sometimes she stepped slowly and insecure as though procrastinating, delaying the moment of unlocking the door to the empty apartment. Other times she ran home in rage and in tears knowing that it will ever be the same again and again. Alone at a place she called home. But what home was that if it offered only empty rooms, closed windows, dimmed light and a cold bed?

He hadn’t really left her actually. He just enjoyed his free time. It was fine for her that he would rather spend it without her sometimes, but what was killing her was that he never felt that there were moments when she needed him. She longed for his caring embrace and she burned for his warm kisses. She needed him to brush away her tears and rock her gently till she falls asleep. She could never tell him this though; words were so hard to say sometimes.  It was easier to let him go and sleep on her pillow soaked with hot tears.