Walking Away


He opened the creaky door,
and he saw her standing there. Too vulnerable.
He saw how she attempted to mask
her worry with one of her gorgeous smiles.
But her half-dried tears in the corner of her eyes gave her away.
Her worry for him must have been eating her alive for months.
He hated hurting her.
He hated himself for walking away from her.
But he hated himself more for being weak.
For being too broken. For being unsalvageable.
He didn’t want her to see him like this.
He looked gaunt.
He was a mess.

She saw him sickly standing there.
She went straight to his arms, and kissed
his chapped lips with burning relief because he is alive.
She looked at his face with overwhelming emotions
while she slowly wiped his tears with her fingers.
She didn’t care that he looked like a mess.
She didn’t ask him why he decided to walk away for no reason.
God! She missed him like how she missed the summer.
She missed him like how roses need water to survive.
She missed how his beard tickled her face
every time he gave her those lingering kisses.

He is the reason she breathes.
He is the reason why life is livable.
It was unbearable seeing him kissed her hands one last time
as he slowly pried them away from his face.
She saw in his eyes what she feared the most,
a broken and Misplaced promise of eternity.
As he uttered the words “I’m sorry” over and over again.
She believed him because she understood.
She would stop caring this time.
She was finally letting him walk away.

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