“I can’t do this anymore”


“I can’t do this anymore.” She whispered to me.

It was in her eyes, the difference defined in the caramel color, this time would not end like the last.

I felt angry, I stood there brooding, contemplating what I should say.

How am I going to keep this from escalating?

She stood in front of me now, her 5’5 frame finding itself in my bubble. I wanted to grab her and throw her back on the bed but her breakdown right in the middle of sex made it clear that would not work this time. She reached for me and I pushed her hands away.

If I can’t touch her, she can’t touch me.

She’s angry now, maybe her anger will overpower her sentiment and we can make it out of this in one piece.  All I need is for her to fight with me, a heated argument will lead to some heated sex. I followed her out of the bedroom and into the living room; the living room was dark, only a streak of light from a half-opened blind.

She reached for her t-shirt and pulled it over herself, I watched as the shirt grazed her nipples, they reacted and now there she stood in the glow of the dim light, perfect, nipples at full salute.

When did she slip on her panties?

I hadn’t even realized they were on her body. She stuffed her bra in her purse and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. She never cared much for bras, her small breast a compliment to her frame, they sat perfectly, not large, not small, just enough.

I walked over and grabbed her, enough, the jeans were going on and she might really leave, enough.

“Don’t do this.” I wrapped her up in my arms and she did not fight me,”Don’t end this.”

It’s what she needed to hear, it’s what I needed to say. I meant it, I didn’t want her to walk away, to throw away all the time and effort we had put forth, I had sacrificed in ways she could not comprehend. She wasn’t going to throw it all away.

We were swallowed up by darkness, how I loved to be in the darkness with this woman.

She reached her hands up and cradled my face, “This was done a long time ago.” She moved away from me, escaping my grasp. I wanted to reach for her but we’d danced this dance before. My eyes filled with tears as she slipped on her jeans and then her shoes. My anger getting the best of me, I glared at her as she stood in front of my door.

The tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

As she turned and reached for the doorknob I yelled out, “Jordan!” she didn’t turn, “If you leave, if you walk out, don’t you look for me again.” My tone angrier than expected. I hadn’t realized until just that moment that she might truly be done.

I saw the hesitation in her step,  allowing me a glimmer of hope. I willed her to turn around, to turn around and allow me to pick her up, to carry her back to the room, or the sofa, or the kitchen if that’s what she wanted.

She opened the door and without looking back she shut the door behind her.

She was gone and I was left standing there, all alone in the dark.




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