“Daren, you promised me…” I plead to the man I love, the man who repeatedly breaks my heart, but my lips barely move. Somewhere along the way I lost the will to force the words I know won’t reach him anyway. Go to him, I urge myself, there’s still time, there has to be time, yet I remain frozen.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Daren sneers, black eyes blazing into mine. Exhaustion has settled into their haunting depths but he won’t let his fevered mind find rest with me. He could collapse at any moment and yet he’s still determined to run. He always runs. “I never promised you anything, Tanim.”
“You…” I falter, sickened by abrupt understanding. “You never did, did you?” Suddenly it’s all so clear. God, what a fucking fool I am. I promised. He didn’t. Daren would never bind himself, even to me.
“I never promised you a thing,” my beloved spits again as he opens the door. He glances back over his shoulder but this time refuses to meet my eyes. “I only said that I loved you. I never said I would stay.”
Isn’t that a promise, though? Isn’t love itself a bond? A commitment? A covenant?
Daren is gone before I can reply.
[ This is a prose piece reworked from a poem I wrote in high school. No, you can’t read the poem. It’s awful. ]