Medicine
The city was big, but so were their hearts
There was a strange yet captivating depth to his eyes - it hypnotised her, led her to him like a lamb to the slaughter.
When they were together, it was like there was nothing else at all. They would put the rest of the world away in an airtight jar, disconnect themselves from the pain and breathe each other in.
They wouldn't talk about their problems. They never would.
They could feel the heavy chains slipping from their ankles and the noose loosening from their stiff necks as they drank from each other, took each other in.
All it took was a look.
Behind his deep brown orbs there was something else, an undisclosed secret that seduced her and tantalised her. When she looked into them, she felt a warmth like no other.
They used to lie next to each other on the ground beside the bridge at night, the cool grass beneath them as he ran his slender fingers across the sky and talked for hours. He knew nothing about stars, but his voice was smooth and therapeutic and she would never stop him.
That would have been criminal.
She was under the influence of his voice, so enticing and magnetic that it filled her with electricity from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. A soothing lullaby over the sound of the city.
She would smoke cigarettes in his garage and talk about anything other than the present. She would talk about her childhood whilst he palmed through his vinyl collection, usually before settling for something by Bruce Springsteen.
Her penchant for him was the same as his for her. Addictive.
Every time he saw her it was like his soul was wiped clean, his head cleared. She numbed his grief and his suffering and she made everything right. It was a wonderful kind of numbness.
Before her, he had been empty.
It was as if part of him was missing, as if he had a gaping hole inside of him. When his baby sister had been taken from the world, it was if there was nothing left for him here and no reason why he should stay.
The day that it had happened, he had felt every thread that was holding him together unravel and unwind. He had felt infinitesimal, like he could disappear and nobody would even know.
Then he met her.
She was beautiful and lethal at the same time. She was the first piece of the puzzle, the cure to his illness.
He had met her in a bar. She had sauntered over to where he stood alone, knocking an 8-ball around a pool table with a glass of whiskey intermittently at his lips.
He had felt sorry for himself.
He was just so...lost.
She had found him that night in Joe's bar. They had the worst food and the live music was terrible but it didn't matter because when she smiled at him, nothing was wrong in the world. They had gotten drunk together and they had laughed, sang and wept until the sun split over the horizon.
That morning, they had vowed never to feel sorry for themselves. It had become ritual to bottle up their sadness and put it on a shelf.
It wasn't healthy. They both knew that.
But she was his medicine and he, hers.
When they were together, it was like there was nothing else at all. They would put the rest of the world away in an airtight jar, disconnect themselves from the pain and breathe each other in.
They wouldn't talk about their problems. They never would.
They could feel the heavy chains slipping from their ankles and the noose loosening from their stiff necks as they drank from each other, took each other in.
All it took was a look.
Behind his deep brown orbs there was something else, an undisclosed secret that seduced her and tantalised her. When she looked into them, she felt a warmth like no other.
They used to lie next to each other on the ground beside the bridge at night, the cool grass beneath them as he ran his slender fingers across the sky and talked for hours. He knew nothing about stars, but his voice was smooth and therapeutic and she would never stop him.
That would have been criminal.
She was under the influence of his voice, so enticing and magnetic that it filled her with electricity from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. A soothing lullaby over the sound of the city.
She would smoke cigarettes in his garage and talk about anything other than the present. She would talk about her childhood whilst he palmed through his vinyl collection, usually before settling for something by Bruce Springsteen.
Her penchant for him was the same as his for her. Addictive.
Every time he saw her it was like his soul was wiped clean, his head cleared. She numbed his grief and his suffering and she made everything right. It was a wonderful kind of numbness.
Before her, he had been empty.
It was as if part of him was missing, as if he had a gaping hole inside of him. When his baby sister had been taken from the world, it was if there was nothing left for him here and no reason why he should stay.
The day that it had happened, he had felt every thread that was holding him together unravel and unwind. He had felt infinitesimal, like he could disappear and nobody would even know.
Then he met her.
She was beautiful and lethal at the same time. She was the first piece of the puzzle, the cure to his illness.
He had met her in a bar. She had sauntered over to where he stood alone, knocking an 8-ball around a pool table with a glass of whiskey intermittently at his lips.
He had felt sorry for himself.
He was just so...lost.
She had found him that night in Joe's bar. They had the worst food and the live music was terrible but it didn't matter because when she smiled at him, nothing was wrong in the world. They had gotten drunk together and they had laughed, sang and wept until the sun split over the horizon.
That morning, they had vowed never to feel sorry for themselves. It had become ritual to bottle up their sadness and put it on a shelf.
It wasn't healthy. They both knew that.
But she was his medicine and he, hers.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thanks for reading :)