"I See The Hurt In Your Eyes. It's A Reflection Of The Mess I've Made Of Things."

"I see the hurt in your eyes. It's a reflection of the mess I've made of things."

—Flynn Caulfield, Gilded Cage

I wander through this barren landscape of my heart.

—Flynn Caulfield

I still search for remnants of you in this desolate terrain. But all I find are whispers of the past, carried on the mournful winds. They taunt me with fleeting glimpses of what once was.

—Flynn Caulfield

How Do We Mend This?

The house feels like a hollowed-out echo of itself. The laughter that once danced through these rooms like sunbeams now hangs heavy in the air. We've become two halves of a whole drifting apart like ships in a fog.

It's as if an invisible force has crept between us. Once, there was a lush garden. We tended it together with every passing day. But now, a frost has descended upon our Eden, chilling our hearts and turning our once verdant paradise into a barren wasteland.

Mom keeps saying we need to spend more time together. She's right, of course. But it's not that simple. School, friends, our own worlds—they've pulled us apart. I miss the way things used to be. Oh, I miss you.

Weekends spent in separate rooms. I long for the days when our souls were entwined, when a single glance could convey volumes. Now, our conversations are reduced to awkward silences and polite nods. It's like walking on eggshells.

I find myself wandering through the house like a lost soul, searching for fragments of our past. The worn armchair where we would spend hours talking, the kitchen table where we shared countless meals and secrets—these places now feel like empty shells.

Everything's changed.

Us.

We were the colors in each other's palette, blending seamlessly to create a masterpiece. But somewhere along the way, the colors began to fade, the threads frayed.

I try to reach out and bridge the abyss that has opened between us, but the words seem to catch in my throat like sand.

I fear that the distance between us has grown into an insurmountable chasm. The boy I once knew, with a heart as vast as the ocean, seems to have retreated to an island of solitude. How can I reach you across this expanse? How can I rekindle the flame that once burned so brightly within us? 

I don't know what the future holds. All I know is that I can't lose you completely. We've shared too much, laughed too hard, cried too often to let it die. I'm afraid of the silence growing into an impenetrable wall. But most of all, I'm afraid of facing the truth—that maybe it's too late to mend what's broken. I have to find a way to bring us back. For both our sakes.

© Flynn Caulfield

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Dorianne Laux, from Smoke; “Last Words”