Something I found (someone else's recollection)

the recollection

I can't remember the last thing I said to him exactly.

It had started to fall apart in routine avalanches, gradual lapses in courtesy. The gap between our bodies had started to widen, cold sheets acting as filler. The decimation of our domesticity had been encountered and I viewed it with a defiant form of nonchalance; we were invariably tied to a plethora of shifting variables. I was at a loss to pick which one would be the downfall.

The days before were spent treading water. We witnessed the poppies bloom in March and the mosquito bites of June. August brought the first breakdown, I was the first to push. But in the rough stillness of October nights, we began to rekindle our laughter. January whited our knuckles and by July the heat had left us smoldered; long nights spent opening suitcases to convey the threat, salt water staining our cheeks. Breakdowns became habitual. Knives strewn across the counter, pinpricks of indignation surfacing at the tips of our fingers. Both of us were too aware of the distinct appendage each of us carried by carrying on, shifting the added weight uncomfortably shoulder to shoulder, but neither of us had the courage to grasp the handle correctly.

The attempts at retaining some form of civility were meshed with the ability to acquire substitutions. I found his jawline in the threadbare spines of discarded novels; his eyes in the small petri dish of rain water in the emptied pool below our apartment - teal algae clinging, forming the iris. The chalky grout of the tile; the narrow space between his fingers. Breakfasts of black tea conjured memories of off-white silk dresses and weeknights when my clothes came down, caught by my hips, the occasional hem skimming at the knees.

In the end, we were overcome with silence. We had been obliterated by the black hole we had quietly assembled.


(I don't have the name of the author, just the link to their blog)