Her Silver Chain

I left our house and even though I was wearing so little in this cold weather of December, I didn’t regret leaving. If I stayed, things would have gotten worse and I didn’t want that. Hell, she didn’t want that either. I understood what she meant and how cruel it was to her, but there was no other choice and she knew better than that.

Was there really no other choice than fighting again and again about that thing? It was just sex. It wasn’t like we were in love with the people we were having sex with. Not to mention she was doing it as well. If we didn’t have chained hearts, maybe we would have been like those silly couples walking the streets on Christmas, but we weren’t made for that.

I tightened my hands around my thin jacket as I kept walking down the street without a real destination. Down the next street was a small park. I sat down on the bench and gazed at the starless night and I was alone. I was loved, so why was I feeling so empty? Maybe because she didn’t understand my feelings to the point I wanted her to? I didn’t know.

In her mind, how was I pictured? Was I a whore with no place in my heart for anyone? Was I so cold? Maybe she was right. Maybe my heart had started freezing after everything that I had to go through, and maybe somewhere along the way I had thought of her heart as mine.

A heartless whore, an empty shell of a human being… sitting there like a corpse gazing up at the sky which seemed furious as it started to rain. One thought kept replaying itself on my mind; did whores always feel so alone?