… 3:24?

It used to be a favourite of ours. Saint-Saëns. We’d play it on a Sunday evening as we sat in the bath talking. Afterwards, we’d find ourselves in the flickering candle-light. Making the kind of shadows only one thing can make: love. Where in the darkness, whispers are secrets shared only by lovers. A night full of promises,  we have an eternity to keep.

3:24 – The Swan, Carnival of the Animals.

In the darkness of the room, only the smouldering cigarette in my hand lights my crinkled face. An empty bottle of cheap vodka tumbles to the floor next to a half-full vial of pills. There aren’t enough inside to numb the pain anymore. The water, warm. The blade of surgical steel, cold. I remember to start at the bottom and pull upwards. Pushing it down as hard as I can.

3:24 – the time it takes to look over at the man and realise he is the one.

The letter sits beside the bath. The words a reminder that I was just not good enough. For a brief second the pain is unbearable. But not as painful as knowing he loved me once. Then it recedes. The water a light pink becomes darker. Crimson becomes Blood red. Dark like a womb before I was born. Before I made so many mistakes.

3:24 – the time it takes to die alone


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