There was never a time when I thought you'd do it. More so under those circumstances -- those circumstances when our ropes and our holds had suddenly thinned out, had become ripping threads and had clipped tremblingly.
It might have been a petty act of child's play, a misdemeanor, a lapse of reason -- but it was not. To you, it was nothing -- but to me, it was everything.
The pact we had forged wallowed in despair -- slowly, slowly, slowly -- until the cries had turned to whispers so helpless against the screaming silence.
For many hours and for random long seconds of every day after, glimpses of what happened haunt me. Though I tried not to think of it, suppression caused more wounds. The scars, though as brown as the drought of the soil, watered occasionally: dropping, stopping, and scattering again and again. The thirst could not be quenched.
But like the sun that continuously fainted with the advancing hours but always and unfailingly came up with dawns, I chose -- or have chosen -- to be reborn in your womb where the persistence of my breathing lingered.
I had to untangle the spins of the threads.
I had to tame the trembling of my hand that had once so peacefully rested on your palm.
I had to be convinced again that we had to live -- together.
I had to.
I had to.
Then, you looked in my eyes. I was sitting there, a meter away from where you were. The facade of a strong and fearless lover were the pretense of your eyes while mine were of a retreating and discouraged one's.
Our ground was shaking... then it stopped.
I looked again into your eyes which hours ago screamed waters of regret. They were now peaceful. There was just the muted plea, the implication too obvious for words.
I tried to speak but the air was full.
I was too weak to let go for I was too strong to stay.
