Stella

You could see it on her face, not so much on her face as in her lips. They quivered, shook, and cried. They were what I had never seen before, never expected; they were my realization. 

Her eyes were secondary. They had the tears, but her lips are the ones that cried. They spelled out what she was thinking, “what right do you have to break my heart? What right?”

I felt the weight of my face with every word.  My eyes, heavy with shame; my lips twitching with discomfort; my heart pounding with pain.

She just gave it to me, without reservation, without a second thought. How could I not tell her it would come to this? It always comes to this.

The shrieks are what will stay in my memory. As I walked down that hallway it was like I heard someone dying; the shrill, piercing, penetrating wail of despair. and then it hit me, it wasn't someone, it was something....

I’ve broken one heart too many, now its time for mine to crack a little.