(9)(12)(21) and halves

I woke up in the nude in the middle of the night. My body was covered in sweat. He was there, my other half, naked, sat in the white leather armchair, staring at me. We both knew what was going to happen. We walked together to the bridge. We did not say anything. My feet were hurting, bleeding by the time we got there. I looked at him. He looked at me. I dived into him. He dived into me. I cried. He cried. We both knew what was going to happen. I promised him not to look back once he was gone. I held his hand as he was standing on the railing in front of the most beautiful of the dawns. The last one. A linen cloth in which blues, reds, oranges, yellows and purples fortuitously sprinkled an exhausted igneous Sun. The bay was uncomfortably calm. The distant siren of a fishing boat. I hesitantly let his hand go. We enjoyed an everlasting white silence before. We drowned in a sea of bittersweet doubts before.

He jumped. I closed my eyes and walked away.

As I was getting away my stomach melted and I climbed up the railing and I saw him drowning and my heart took over my self and I jumped and I opened my eyes and I cried and I felt the impact with the water as if ninety one thousand two hundred and twelve pins were piercing my body at once and i swam towards him and I grab him and I swam and I swam and I swam and I cried and I swam and I made it to the shore.

I was exhausted. He was unconscious.

"Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he softly mumbled as he opened his eyes.

"I couldn't let you go."

"Yes... you did. Yes... you did."

And only then we were one again and I was talking to myself. (❦)