The Time Stopped Yesterday

“When will you be back?”

It seem right, to ask him that question. She knew the answer, but wanted to hear him say it. Wanted to hear for herself, wanted to hear her own heart break.

“Not…any time soon. This…is goodbye. For good.”

He walked away.

She did not stop him, nor did she hope he look back at her.

She stopped her tears, placing a finger under her nose. A vain attempt at holding it all inside. Her breathing laboured, her stomach tighten and time stopped.

Time stopped yesterday.

Yesterday, when he told her, “I don’t love you anymore.”

Yesterday, when it rained and she forgot her umbrella. Yesterday, when she miss-match her stripped orange cardigan with her light blue skinnies. The cardigan that was a size too big and hug her like a blanket. Yesterday. It was yesterday.

He walked away. As easily as when he walked in. Only this time, it tore her apart; and as she pinched her nose, her tears tumbled down her cheeks.

Yesterday, as easy as he could say, “I love you,” he also said, “I don’t love you anymore.” And as easy as that, her heart broke.

And she cried. On her knees, hard cold pavement and gloomy skies.

It was yesterday. Time stopped yesterday.

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To love when it hurts the most.

To love when it hurts the most.
by Maclean Patrick


He held it, as if it was cotton candy. Hunch over and seated, he read every word, whispering to himself as the sentences unfolded before him.  And when he was half-way through, he stopped to cry.

A sniffle. A tear. The words stung and he heard his heart break.

‘You knew it would end someday. I did not want to tell you but it ended for me a few months back. I am in love with someone else, but I still want to be friends with you. I still want to talk to you. Because I know, even if I became the devil; you would still love me.’

The old tree creaked as the wind picked up. Dark clouds marched overhead, and the unmistakable scent of rain filled his senses. The leafless, excuse for a tree was bad protection from the elements yet he did not want to move. Maybe if she saw him there, she would change her mind and come back to him.

What foolish thoughts, she was miles away in another state, oblivious to his broken state.

“Friends?” He mumbled.

He knew it was a lie. Former lovers make poor friends. Emotional attachments, when broken, are near impossible to mend and love cuts deepest when the attachments were fortified by hope and sacrifice.

‘I will never come back to you. I will never love you the same way again. But I still love you as a friend. My best friend.’

“Friends,” he mumbled. The word was a curse.

Where did it go wrong? Where had he err? Did he say something wrong? Did he not do enough? Why?

Eyes closed, he pondered the questions as the first raindrops fell. The tears mingled freely with natures’ blessing. Yet the grace of the heavens failed to wash away the dull emptiness clinging to him like his wet cotton shirt.

“Friends?” Saying it was painful.

Up to that moment, all his thoughts were on her. Missing her not in measured time but with every moment. And even as she broke his heart, the only thought he had; was to be by her side. To hold her and assure her, he still loved her. Even when she had stop loving him.

“There’s no such thing as friends. Love is love. Love doesn’t die; you just changed your mind about me.” With that he resigned himself to the pain of loving and being where he was. If the pain of being just a friend would allow him to love her. Then he would take the pain and live to love her.

He stood there; wet to the bone and prayed that the universe would honor his decision. For only he and the universe would understand the merits of such a decision.

To love when it hurts the most.