Loving You Was Bitter Blue

I wish I had something better to say.

Image Credit: Depositphotos

You tap your fingertips against the table as we wait for coffee.

I remember days and nights when those fingers knew me, when your hands caressed me, when there was nothing better than loving you and being loved by you.

Now your touch is an alien thing — foreign territory, if I’m honest about it.

The folder with the divorce papers sits between us, having thus far gone untouched.

You sigh.

There is a world, an entire universe, in that sound.

I long to decode it.

But you won’t let me.

All I have left to do is sign my name.

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