Silva Chege

This house isn’t a home; it’s a coffin echoing silence and cradling a dead marriage. We pass each other like strangers in the night… never daring to lift our eyes from our feet or uttering a single word. Lives that once intertwined have now become untangled and separate. Love that once blossomed has wilted and shed its last petal. The laughter that once sang has been silenced. Now he spends his days wading into his work; desperate to be drowned by it. I spend mine being deafened and taunted by the ticking clock and staring at a blank wall, wondering just how quickly a house can go up in flames. It wasn’t always like this. This prison was once a wonderland of joy and happiness. In the early days we would run around and giggle together like children; kiss and fuck addictively like teenagers; hold each other and lay bare our insecurities and fears like adults. His smile was once a sunrise and his eyes oceans to dive into. I thought our Hollywood romance had met its happy ending. ...

Our lips collided against a backdrop of whoops, cheers and god-awful R ‘n’ B. It didn’t take long before I was swept up by the tenderness of her lips and the exquisiteness of her rooming hands, that so expertly detonated small bombs of electricity across each inch of flesh they explored. With my hunger growing, nearing on the animalistic, I desperately tried to pull her body closer to mine. But I couldn’t. She resisted. Wounded, I instantly pulled back. The spell was broken and devastatingly, I was reacquainted with my surroundings and bitter reality… a frat party and spin the bottle. A swarm of male eyes were on us from every direction, and I could almost see the giant neon signs flashing in their minds: HOT GIRLS KISSING. The air of arousal was suffocating, and sickening. Laughter. Heartbreaking laughter. She wasn’t by my side anymore, quicker than a flash of lightning, she had stood up and rematerialized at HIS side, fingertips affectionately gliding through his hair. The k...