Three Over Four

Don’t speak. Don’t say anything. Don’t even whisper…

I’d like to listen to this better. The sound of your heartbeat. The sound of you breathing.

It reminds me how close you are to me.

To feel you breathing down my neck convinces me that you love me…

I like to hear your heartbeat together with mine, they sound like the metronome of our love song. The song that plays faster every time, and also slower at the same time. They are the narrator of our love story whenever we wanted to remember. They are the one we need to keep us alive – and the one our love need to survive –.

I forgot the sound of your breath, all I know is, it’s a good feeling to hear it. It’s not the same as any other people. Yours is the most addictive. The most dangerous. The most killing.

Now, all I got is my heartbeat alone, and the down syndrome of loosing you. Our heartbeat dies, as our love story started to decay. But part of it, is trying so hard to survive. I am part of our love story, and I am the one that wanted it to survive.

But looking at the fact, and forced to get real, I realized our love story will surely decay until none is left. The sweet melody is turning bitter, and it is depressing…

After all, I figure out that love is the slowest way to commit suicide.