And she turned and saw that he had left, there were no longer air filled laughs or the warmth of a presence. It always felt like he was a stone, unmoving, forever a solice to lean on. But just like nature erodes and earth is moved, so a man might be torn. Maybe it was the comfort, or maybe just the convenience, hell it could have been everything she said it was. But hearts should be kept like a flower not a pet, nourished and looked at, moved from the harsh sun and bathed in all the rain. It was not meant to be owned, walking away and expecting to come back home to a wagging tale when not a thought was sent.
Always there, she thought it would always be there, the scent he left on the pillow, the energy of his smile, even goosebumps of his kiss. But the butterflies escaped, and the blood rush settled, is this how it’s meant to be, or should there be more. Should there have been a storm of fury to show him what he’s meant, should there have been memories engraved in his rock form that could always be read.
He sit and waits for her to see, he knows no other love but she. He only wants to be the start of her day, and every goodnight. He only wants to make her laugh and dance with every dream. He will keep his hope, for hope is all he has, his hope in her to see, to hear, to hold on till they both live as one.