Feel the Spotlight

“Hi,” I say. It's like a phantom word, it doesn't have much meaning, it just floats in greeting. Your hand's in mine, colder and softer and smaller than before. My sleeper in the pale sheets with the flowers all around and the veins that continue out in rivers of plastic tubes.

“Hi,” you say, my darling, a voice like piano notes strung out too long, breath hanging onto the word long after the sound is gone. Your eyes flutter and then open, your gaze a searchlight, eyes full of bright things, of future, of thoughts, of kindness and better days. They love all that they see and I can tell and it breaks my heart, darling. “I'm glad you're... glad you're here.”

You break my heart every day, darling, tear me up until I'm in shreds. You don't mean to, I know that, you loved me so well and I did nothing in return. Maybe now, if only for a little while, you can love me and keep me and that'll be enough. Maybe you'll be happy, maybe I can make you happy, my sleeper. Maybe you can keep my heart, maybe they'll bury it with you. Maybe that will be enough, maybe that will make up for all my lies.

“Th-thank you... thank you for... thank you—“ Your spotlight eyes are trained on me. They never let me go. They illuminate, they hurt, they sting, they burn. They believed my every lie, your dinner plate, spotlight eyes. They want me to know, they want me to understand, those eyes.

“Shh, shh—I know. I know it—it's alright—don't.”

“Don't?” you breathe.

“Don't say thank you. It's okay.” I've wronged you. So many times. But you don't know and you never knew, you just loved me and that was all. You were blind and stupid and you loved me, horrible, horrible me. Me, who loved any other, anyone would do, anyone who could give me things I wanted. And I always told you it was just you. Only you for me and me for you. You were the only one I could possibly love. Simple as that. That was the way it went in your mind and it was perfect. But I messed it up because I'm messed up and I always want more than I can have. I'm wrong and I screwed everything up, but you still love me and you still thank me when I deserve nothing more than hate. But you could never hate anyone. You're that good.

“...I love you,” you say in a small voice.

“Don't say that either,” I whisper and a cry fights behind my tongue.

“But it's... it's true. I can't—I can't n-not say it when it's... it's true. It's true.”

“...Please don't.”

You sit up as far as you can manage, wincing. “Why not?” you say and it sounds like the old you, the one that's not sick or broken or cold or small.

I'm crying now and my mouth is open like a fish, heaving in the stale air without a sound. “I'm so sorry—sorry—I'm sorry for everything—I just—I can't—I'm so sorry—“

You hold me to your chest with your cold hands and you tremble with the effort and I'm afraid for you. “I know. I know you're... you're sorry.”

I look up, bleary eyed. “What?” A cracked, child's voice.

“I know. I... I forgive... I forgive you.”

“But...”

“It's okay.” You smile and your broken voice tears me up so bad inside. “I know... And it's... it's okay.”

“...But it's not okay,” I cry, because it's not. It never was for me to do those things.

You shake your head and I can tell that it hurt. Your mouth settles into a hard line, but you hang on to me still. “You... you've always been... you've always been with me. Been... always been mine.”

“...You've always been mine.”

“I... I wish we could've... I wish...” you trail off and your spotlight eyes stare into mine and I know the rest, I know the eternity of words you wished to say to me, my darling, you.

“I love you,” I say it hard, with urgency, without tenderness. I shake your cold hand in mine. I love you. I say it softer until it's muddled and meaningless as a hello to a lost love as the lights die out and your limbs grow heavy around me.

And then the spotlights go dark. And I drown in their absence.