86 seconds later

"I really miss this."

Sigh. The words I had very much been longing to hear...

"Why can't we go back?" you crumple atop me. I move out from under you.

"Stop saying that."

"Why?" you move to embrace me. The alcohol on your breath races towards me.

I scoot further away.

"It's dead now." I close my eyes.

Silence.

"But I miss you."

Maybe a few months ago those same words would have changed everything. Maybe the way we are now would not be if you had said those words when they were due-- when I wanted, needed to hear them. Timing was always off with us and it will never be on track, I suppose. You say it louder as though I had not heard. But I did. I used to dangle on every word you said, and these? They would have been the catalyst of a massive resolution. They would have lifted a burden on my shoulders and filled an emptiness in my soul. But now...? They change nothing.

You sit there. I can feel your gaze upon me still. For assurance, I crack my eyes open. You are staring at my hand that is centimeters away from yours. I pull it up and tuck it underneath my cheek.

I don't feel regretful or nostalgic or hopeful. You annihilated all hope that night...and every night after. And I don't miss you. Not anymore.