Love is a broken thing, it can never be fixed. In the eyes of the people who know it well it can be more, mean more, hurt more or sadden more when that broken thing isn’t there anymore. My mind fogged over again as I studied the back of his head, while sitting on the sofa that took up a lot of space in the recording studio. How did it ever come to this… I can wonder for ages how it changed from being closer to him to being so far even though he’s sitting in front of me head bent eyes closed lips parted slightly as he listened to the piece of music he was working on. His mind engrossed within every beat every word, it needed to be perfect so the story he was trying to tell was painted vividly even to the blind.

Should I interrupt him? Will he get mad at me?

I pause for a minute, I don’t even breathe. I wish the world would stop and the truth of it, no the truth of us won’t be revealed. I suppress the tears burning in my eyes even though there’s no one in this room, only him. My vision blurs and I can’t see anything in its path as the tears wash my eyes, I can no longer see the future for us.

Is he writing a love song?

He used to say those three little words to me all the time, now he can only ignore me like I’m just dust in his large life. I’ve been sitting here for three hours and he still hasn’t said anything, he hasn’t even looked at me. Why?

He can’t even look me in my eyes, it like he’s guilty of something but I should just jump to conclusions. He’s always been my baby; even if he didn’t love me anymore he would never do that to me.

If everything is fine, if we’re fine then why doesn’t he come home any longer? He’s here at the studio, all day and night am I to believe that? Is it the truth? His friends they ask questions. They ask if I’m alright. I tell them I’m perfect. But we can all tell it’s a lie.

Hypothetically, if he was having an affair with someone would I be able to leave him?

Can I give up what I we’ve had for years?

I don’t have the strength to think of it anymore. My mind comes back to reality when I feel the wetness on my hand, I hadn’t realised I’d been crying all this time. The thought of giving him up is too much for my mind to handle. The thought of not having him by my side is heart wrenching. I stop a shuddering gasp from escaping my lips, though he won’t hear me.

I should leave.

I struggle to my feet, pull my belongings close and stride to the door, I try to get there with some purpose though I know he isn’t watching. He doesn’t wonder if I’ll leave and not come back.

Will I not come back?

As I pull the door open what I see makes my blood run cold, that person stands before me and without so much as a glance in my direction she jumps into my boyfriend’s arms like she belonged there. Was it her rightful place? Who did she think she was to claim it?

I don’t dwell long enough to notice his eyes on me as I leave.

Oh. He finally noticed me.