Everything was black. Everything that was supposed to be light and fluffy was dark and heavy. We were getting married tomorrow, and everything was supposed to be as white as my gown and as red as the roses. But things weren’t as pure as the façade of a perfect wedding day. And things weren’t as graceful as a bride gliding down the isle with ruffles of excess fabric puddling to the floor. My world was blackening and only I could see it. The edges of the perfect picture were crumpling. The picture was fading with age, and the creases were taking their toll as they grew deeper and wider. But the picture of our love wasn’t old. It was just handled by many. It was looked upon by too many eyes and held by too many greasy fingertips. The fingerprints of strange onlookers were smudging our happiness.
It wasn’t always this way, of course. It used to be perfect. Crisp. New. The picture was colorful and vibrant, and we were smiling and genuinely grateful to have found each other. Happiness was radiating from us. And it was evident.
I sat for a moment longer before I closed my eyes to the starry night and concentrated on his precious breathing that blended so well with the crickets’ symphony right outside the bedroom window. I sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled silently as a tear forced its way through my closed eyelids. I allowed the warm droplet an inch of success before bringing my index finger to it and wiping it away.
I looked to him laying beside me. I wasn’t being fair. I was being selfish. I was being secretive and untrusting. I was lying to him every day when I told him that I loved him time after time. I was lying to him when I would softly caress him with my fingertips and I was lying to him when I would kiss his soft lips ever so gently.
I didn’t want to lie anymore. I didn’t want to cheat him out of a life of true love. It wasn’t fair to him.
I brought my fingertips to his sleeping face and touched his cheekbone tenderly. I traced his cheek down to his chin and leaned over to kiss his lips. I would miss him.
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