We argued today
We argued today. You cursed at me, I swore at you. I said that you should leave, never come back and that I hated you. You froze. I froze. I turned away, not wanting to know what happened next. I heard you sniffle, then shuffle away. The toilet door slammed. Another sniffle. I know exactly what is happening to you, and I feel dreadful – you will be curled up on the floor, hot tears streaming down your face as you try to fix your broken heart, your broken heart that was smashed by me. I hear you crying, as silent tears incessantly drip from my chin. drip. drip. drip. I shudder, trying to stop myself from falling apart. How could I do such a thing. You have a fragile heart, I need to protect you, like I promised you I would. I need to see you smile again. I need to stop hearing your heart break into smaller and smaller pieces. I want to take all my words back, but I can’t, so maybe I will settle for begging for your forgiveness.
I awkwardly stand by the door, hand lifted mid-air, wondering how to approach the subject. 1, 2, 3, *knock* *knock* *knock* “Babe, I’m so sorry, please please let me in, please.” Silence. With a hammering heart, I try the door. It’s unlocked. You were curled up by the bathtub, back facing me, head tilted down. A sob is caught in my throat. You were so painfully beautiful, how did I deserve you.
You sat up and faced me, red-rimmed eyes casted to the ground. Your normally twinkling blue eyes were a stormy grey, storm clouds raging and clashing inside. My heart clench at how helpless I felt, and knowing that it was me who caused you all the pain made it worse. a sniffle. I rushed forwards and gathered you in my arms, all the while trying to pick up the pieces scattered on the floor. This is too easy, I thought. The apology is the easy part, piecing your broken heart and glueing them back together is the hard part. But I will try my hardest.
We argued today. I broke your heart, and I will fix it up.