Wreckage

(Inspired by Superchick's song, "Courage")

They both had their vices.
She starved herself to perfection. He bled to attain peace.
They both had each other.
He didn't tell her to eat. She didn't tell him to put the blade away.
They sat in silence, away from accusers. No judgment, no expectations.

They suffered. They weren't good enough. But in their short time together, they didn't need to be.

At times, they talked. They talked about the things they couldn't tell the others. They knew they wouldn't scare them, like so many others had been scared. They listened, but didn't offer opinion or rebuke. They accepted.

It was decided that they influenced each other negatively. It was decided that they would no longer spend time together. It was decided that even a goodbye was inappropriate.

They added their separation to their long list of sorrows. They no longer had a friend who could listen to their tales of suffering. And so they suffered more.

Many years, hospitalizations, and rehab visits later, they had a chance meeting. They sat. They talked. They listened.

For hours, they spoke of what had happened. It grew late.

They rode the city bus home, still in each other's company. They didn't want to go back. Back to the many nameless faces that ran their lives.

They looked in each other's eyes, about to bid farewell.


They never spoke the words.
They were found in the wreckage by the paramedics, dead on impact.