Smoke

The reason he is gone is supposed to make sense. But it does not. Complaints that I haven't done all that I could to make this relationship work. His actions show that he loves me no more- but his mouth says that he still wants us to be. Other women, girls...a girl in particular that is not me. She embraces him with her beauty- the beauty he sees in her he could not find within me. They have a secret bond, the foundation to all his great days. When everyone in his school torments him, and the the drama chicks at his job call him "feminine," and the car he constantly puts money into continues to break down, and it feels as though no one cares about him, when he drinks himself into an unconscious sleep she is the one whose face he sees as freedom from enslaved pain.
And I no longer am a number in the equation. I've given all I could to love him. I gave him my hopes and dreams, experiences that were locked in the crevices of my heart. And now I am hopeless, left alone to summon up new aspirations. I feel heat on my face- of guilt from loving someone that no longer loves me back. It makes me bitter, my bones sour as the kiss of amaretto. I curse his name and I swear that I no longer love him. He has just walked out of my life- with no explanation or glance back. I know that I cannot hold onto someone who wishes to be let go and I don't know much Spanish, but I can conjure up an "Adiós."