A Temporary Matter

Drizzling outside made me sad.

I told him that I feel sad. I even feel sorrow from the moonlight faintly covering us, I told him. 

That slight rainfall and light weren’t distractible at all, because they were almost unnoticeable, I continued. 

But the fading love between us wasn’t noticeable at all, I couldn’t tell him. 

Before the security roped off, at the airport, I splayed my arms to hug him tightly. That cuddling didn’t give him a purpose to continue to love me but at least, at least, I was happy. When his body and mine collided for a while, I wished my lank hair could change his mind. To distract him. To tremble him with the rose-odored conditioner that I put on my hair last night. He stroked my hair, but instead of feeling pleasure, his meaningless touch made me go numb. My rose scent and my grape-colored lips which approached him as attractive couldn’t satisfy him for this long, so I decided to think that this love was just a temporary matter. 

‘I don’t want to be someone prying,’ I reminded myself until I saw his message. 

‘Sorry, I need some time to move away from everything to catch up on my life. I’ll text you when I come back.’

I knew that he was barricading himself from me, that he was being protective. Not for me, but for himself. As for himself, he didn’t text me back for more than ten years. 

Now I’m the wife of someone. Someone who treats me way better and kinder. Someone who is way better than him. So I’m happy. Hopefully, I am.