There was a time when I not only didn’t mind looking at her, I actually enjoyed it. Back when we were happy. When we could have a conversation and not argue. Have dinner and not eat in silence, already having said a lifetime of things to say. Hold her hand across the table and be aroused by nothing more than the softness of her skin. She used to be lovely. She used to be funny. Back before I needed to drink just to be around her. What has time done to us? Or have we done this to each other?

Copyright (c) 2021 by Christian E. Hallaway

I still love him. I can’t help it. I hold on to what he used to be. And what he could have been. I see how he looks at me now and it hurts. I try to remember how he looked at me then. Way back when he still loved me. The drinks don’t make him see me any differently, in fact I think it helps him to not see me at all. They do the same for me. Nights like these I don’t have to see the disappointment in his eyes. And I don’t have to see myself either.

Copyright (c) 2021 by Christian E. Hallaway