We sit across from each other at the coffee table – two souls who once conjured up a world of their own and now, just aliens from different spheres.
I don’t steal glances at you every now and then. I don’t notice the craters around your eyes or the hollows in your cheeks. The sight of your sleep deprived face does not bother me nor does the cigarette that seems to have found its way back to between your dexterous long fingers. It does not bother me that you have lost weight or that you lose a few curls every time you rake your hand through your hair. I do not heed the modest dimples on your forehead that seem to have left your cheeks to bridge your eyebrows. I do not hear the emptiness in your laugh or catch the sparkles that have gone amiss in your eyes.
I am not upset that we talk so little when there is so much to say. It does not affect me when you tell me how your life has changed. I do not secretly wonder if you have met someone else. And I do not feel relieved when you show me pictures of new friends none of whom are women. When its finally time to bid goodbye, I am not overwhelmed by the warmth in your hugs or hope that has begun to engulf me.
Written in response to the The Daily Post’s Prompt.