Night 1. Day 1.
I wonder if it bugs her, the smell of my cigarettes. She always eyes me with those skeptical amber eyes, but I can never tell her subtleties. Is that a head tilt of curiosity, or a head tilt of disapproval? I can’t tell. She has so many small cues I have yet to learn.
Night 3. Day 13.
Like the way I find her playing with the empty pack of cigarettes when I walk out of the shower. Without saying a word I watch her from the hallway as she traced her fingers across each letter, tracing the logo, like she’s trying to memorize it’s touch and feel. Again, is it curiosity, or disapproval? I want to know what is going through that little head of hers. I took a step forward, the floorboard squeaks, she quickly puts the pack down and pulls the covers over herself. By the time I make the few steps into the room, she’s hidden far under the covers. Had I not known, I would have thought her to be fast asleep. Not quite sure what to do, I walk over to the large window opening up to city skyline. Sighing, I can see her anticipating eyes tracing the outline of my back through the reflection of the window. Saying nothing, I leave the unanswered questions behind. Once again, unvoiced.
Night 6. Day 228.
There are times I think my smoking repulses her and times I know it does. Like when I go in for a kiss, she always mentions the bitterness of my lips. She tells me it leaves an unsatisfying taste on her tongue, and then, often, she pulls away from my embrace all together. I am left behind to smirk at her sauntering silhouette as she sashays off to meet up with her friends at the bar. Funny, if she mentioned how little I showed up in town half as much as she mentions my smoke tart breath, I’d think she misses me. But no such luck. Can’t be helped, I hardly have time to meet up with her, if not for the night gigs she comes to to show her support, I wouldn’t see her at all. Smoke and luck aside, I never fail to take her back with me. Be it planned, or unplanned, she will always sneak away with me.
Night 13. Day 278
It’s times like these that makes me remember the aftermath. I am no idiot. I see her stark solemn shadowed back. I happen to have forgotten the towel, I left the shower running and opened the door to the room without her noticing. But I notice. I notice the way she is holding my shirt up toward her face, tears freshly streaking down her cheeks. Gripping my pristine button up like someone, anyone, is going to rip it out of her hands at any time, tearing her fingers away from them. I am not sure how long I stood there for, but when she finally looks up and her reflection catches mine in the window, I can only let out a sigh. Her tears never stops and the mist from the shower is wafting into the room. Walking over to the bedside table, I grab my cigarettes, lighter, and headed out to the balcony, fully aware of her tear drenched eyes as they trace my every move. She continues to watch me through the glass door.
Night 17. Day 315
The night continues on forever. I smoke. She makes use of the unoccupied hot shower to camouflage her tears, no doubt. I am guessing it’s neither disapproval or curiosity. Just a longing, a sent and action she can remember me by. Subtleties. . . It sure would explain the empty cigarette pack in her purse she held onto, from who knows how long back.
Night 21, Day 348
Maybe I’m not being fair. Maybe I’m being selfish. So many nights have pass in these hotel rooms like this night. I never fail to swoop her away with me, but I also never fail to leave her behind day and day again. It’s become blatantly clear that neither one of us addressed what this is, because there is nothing to address. What is it we are doing here? What are we? Those are questions she avoids asking me, but I can feel the air being syphoned out of me when she clamps down on those perfectly plump lips each time I reach the door.
Night 24, Day 365
I try leaving her alone after that. It is clear my presence is no longer welcomed in her life. I see the sorrowful stare she gives me at the bar now. Not sure whom to leave with, me, or her perfect childhood friend who has been nothing but adoring to her. I made the choice easier, I walked away.
Year 2
Or so I thought.
Year 2 Day 2
But one more visit over at her apartment changes that.
Year 2 Day 15
She is rooming with a mutual friend of mine, my lead vocalist's girlfriend to be precise. He had left his lyrics in her room. He left everything in that room, his life even. So while my mutual friend scours her room for his lyrics, I let myself into the room of those amber eyes. Looking around I notice it to be as clean as it has always been before. Possibly even emptier now that she no longer had my poster hanging on her walls. Guess it would be hard to continue being such a dedicated fan to a man who stole away her soul and sanity.
Year 2 Day 15
I turn to leave when it caught my eyes. A small twelve pack, Djarum BLACK Cherry. I step over to her bedside table to pick it up. Light, and empty.
Year 2 Day 16
“Oh that thing” I turn to see the mutual friend walk in, “I don’t even know why she has that. She doesn’t even smoke”.
Year 2 Day 17
“Why does she have it then?” My lips form the question to voice the curiosity I didn’t even know I had.
Year 2 Day 18
She shrugs. “I don’t know. She just always stares at it at night, I don’t even know if she sleeps at night. She stares it so much”. She hands me the lyrics “here”.
Year 2 Day 19
I grab the lyrics hesitantly, still staring down at the empty black pack.
Year 2 Day 20
“Don’t you smoke those black cherries?” she asks indifferently
Year 2 Day 25
It was my turn to shrug to mirror her fained indifference. “Sure”.
Year 2 Day 26
Placing down the pack I find my way to the front door to head out of the apartment.
Year 2 Day 28
“Hey, we’re having a small get together to celebrate tonight. If you’re interested swing by and join us. she finally scored her dream job”.
Year 2 Day 29
I turn to nod in acknowledgement and to watch the door shut. . . reluctantly.
Year 2 Day 30
Maybe she is being unfair. Maybe she is being selfish…Either way I never got a chance to explore the meanings behind those glazed over amber eyes. I wonder if she's truly still living, or if she is just still going through the motions, because that is what’s decided for her. Why hasn't she voiced her obscurities?
Year 3 Day 265
I drove up to the bottom of the stairs on the usual path she would have to cross from her childhood friends to her own apartment. I wait, leaning against the outside of my car. When her figure finally appears at the top of the stairs, accompanied by another, I am smoking my usual cigarette.
Year 3 Day 275
Having caught my image in the corner of her eyes she stops abruptly in her track. She is facing me, but he is not. Having noticed her stop, her childhood friend starts to turn to follow her line of sight, only to be stopped as she pulls him into a kiss.
Year 3 Day 285
She’s more skillful in her craft than I remember. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was ever manipulated by her like that. I stop and chuckle, realizing we have long pass that. This relationship far surpasses manipulations and toyed emotions. Neither of us are ever so innocent.
Year 3 Day 295
I smoke and watch in silent indifference as she pulls him away, directing his gaze away from me. Our eyes never even directly met. I mean she has never once looked into my eyes for even a second. If the eyes are the windows to our soul then there’s no connection there. . .So I wonder why our lives are so interlocked?
Year 3 Day 305
Her figure disappears and reappears in a matter of a few long stretching moments. But once again, she stands before me, before my cigarette even reaches its end. She stood in silence as I finish the last few inhales.
Year 3 Day 315
Having let out the last exhale of smoke, she watches as I drop the cigarette bud and crush it under my polished boots. She never looks up at me as I open the passenger door. She just stares straight ahead and I watched her slide in wordlessly. Not a single greeting or explanation. Just the same as we left it before.
Year 3 Day 325
The drive is more than dead silent. It is eerie.
Night 25 Year 3 Day 335
The night is as passionate and intense as though the previous nights all just happened yesterday. Nothing changed. Not the way she arches under my fingertips. Not the way her moans escape her exasperated lips. Not even the way her skin clings to mine. Nor the way her body fits perfectly right up against mine.
Night 26 Year 3 Day 345
However, it is different from those long nights. She no longer had those tears streaking down her face. Instead I open the shower door to find her wearing my shirt, leaning against the balcony ledge. . . smoking my cigarettes. A sad smile creeps upon her face when she watches me emerge from the misting shower.
Night 27 Year 3 Day 355
She holds her hand up. The stone glistens brightly on her ring finger. Seems she found the triple set flawless diamond ring, with a brilliant flawless 2 carat diamond set in the center. Uncertain whose ring she is wearing, her amber eyes glistens under the city skyline.
Night 28 Year 3 Day 365
Maybe we are being unfair. Maybe we are being selfish...She never asks. Neither do I. I just let her wear it.
Night 29 Year 3 Day 366
Or Maybe it is the Leap year. She moves into the new, permanent, place. No more hotel rooms and reflecting windows. I am still constantly away on tour. But now, instead of an empty cigarette pack, she has her diamond ring, and I have my cherry cigarettes for the days I can’t stare into those amber eyes.
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