The sunlight seeps in through the tinted glass of your mother’s garage. Whilst my aching limbs take comfort in your warm weight softly pressing against me; I feel your chest rise and fall against my own, each breath deeper than the last. We wake to the beginning of a sunrise that whispers ‘Stay’.
The air was cold and your eyes burned violent. We were young, skimming pebbles late at night. They were reckless, crashing into each other and slicing the waves. You were angry but no one knew why. Sometimes I wonder if you even knew, yourself. I wanted to grab your hand but something stopped me. You traced our names in the sand whilst blowing smoke rings in the air. I saw something in you that night that had never emerged before. Your lips brushed mine fleetingly and the taste of tobacco merged with the cherry from your lips lingered around me for the rest of that night.
You were electric, words burning holes in your skin. You couldn’t do anything to stop it, you just had to feel it, that was all there was to do, and I felt for you, I really did. I wanted to cry for you, to absorb your pain and collect it all as if it were a blanket, to shrug it off your own shoulders and carry it on mine. But it wasn’t my misery and all I could do was hold you in the darkness while you ached and trembled. I felt the pain leak out of you, drop by drop. All I could do was softly kiss you on the cheek and whisper words of comfort in your ear in the hope they would somehow heal you.