Less

We use to talk a lot, but now we talk less.  I’m not sure who’s at fault for this distance between us.  I saw you just the other day, and I felt nervous, anxious at the thought of speaking to you.  sure that you would not want to speak to me, I know I’m a fool but that’s how I feel.

I remember the day you left.  I didn’t realise you were going for good at the time.  You put on your old maroon jacket, the one you never wear, you didn’t even do your hair before you left the house.  The door slammed, I didn’t bother too look up, you hadn’t said good bye, I thought you would be back.

We never spent much time in your place, we were always in mine, I never felt comfortable in yours.  I like my own things, and you didn’t mind.  I should have let you be in your own comfort, I should have let you lead the way.  I could suppose a lot of things, in hind sight, but really I suppose you were never going to stay long.  After a year and a half, your only possessions in my apartment were a tooth brush, whatever book you were reading and your old maroon jacket.  Your tooth brush is still here.

If it weren’t for Facebook and Twitter we would probably never talk anymore.  I know you only respond because you feel obliged too, I can feel the terseness of your response, your cold reply, but I just want to communicate with you.  You still care enough to be civil, its a lot less than before, but it something.

How do you think of me now?  Do you think of me?  We see each other less, perhaps I rarely cross your mind.  Maybe when your old and you cast your mind back through the great loves of your life, I will pass by and you will remember me fondly.  I think in that way that our time won’t have been a waste, that as long as it brings happy smiles to you, then I am happy.  It is not easy to be happy, or it wasn’t when you first left.  I always told you I hated that maroon jacket.  That’s why I bought you the emerald green one.  You used to wear that a lot, and on the rare occasion I do see you passing by on the street or drinking in a bar or talking to people who used to be our friends but are now just your friends, you are wearing a new grey jacket.  The new jacket fits you well, I like it more than the maroon one but less than the emerald one.

 

 

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Limerick Writers' Centre

Supporting Literature, Arts and Culture in Limerick since 2008.

NUIG Writers' Society

NUIG's society for exploring each other's writing in a welcoming environment.

The Lacklustre Emporium

The strange ravings of Joshua Kenehan, writer, illustrator, student, madman.

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