still shaking.

the room was so cold, the green walls turned emerald by the limited light, a fan turning everything around in circles. we argued at first through simple words.
you started to swear, and i tried to hold my tongue. i maintained composure and attempted to stay level-headed, whispering first, then eventually raising my voice in hopes that i could break the barrier between us.
it wouldn't fall, the keep on some midwestern castle, spaced on the plains like the cathedrals of the plains. i repeated the words that i so often have no choice but to say, the ones that are the truest: "i care about you more than anything. you mean the world to me."
they sound hollow as i write them down, but when they came from my mouth, there was a more honest tint to them. they were gospel of paul, but still good for nothing.
i kept on. tried to break your defenses, i tried to knock you off your damn high horse so you could see the ignorance inside your own head. you couldn't.
you told me to leave. to find the western coast, the eastern mountains, anything that would get me away from you and your ways i see all to well. does it make you uncomfortable dear?
we finally agreed that no progress was to be made before morning and the negotiations broke down. you sounded relieved. my heart sunk through the pit in my stomach.
we whispered good nights that would have made a knight brace inside his armor. it stung.
long after you hung i laid there shivering. at first i thought it was the cold. the fall air pleading for october recessions.
i got out of bed, picking up the carelessly thrown cardigan off the floor and wrapping myself within its meager shelter. i looked for the comfort of a rough, unfiltered cigarette, tough love is in fact the best love, especially at three thirty in the morning.
i walked outside, still shaking. still running your words through my mind. still uncomprehending.
i meandered down these streets, watching the streetlights morph my shadow back and forth, a giant one second, a man-hole the next.
a prayer silent escaped my lips, a plea for guidance.
back inside i still fought for sleep. another novel was finished, reading by my only constant distraction. (that is the amusing thing. writing is my complete absorption in personal thought, reading is the complete opposite.)
finally sleep crept through my open window and infected me. it was done. i slipped into carefully constructed space.
it is now morning. i am still shaking.