Love Grown Cold

love grown cold

 by Roya Sorooshian

He sat so still, with his eyes closed. His hands long and slender in his lap. I walked around him slowly. I imagined that he was a statue, that I could see moss growing on his neck, and that the little wrinkles in the corner of his eyes were hairline cracks. His skin was turning green and cold while I watched. I can't see him breathing anymore. Was it my words that turned him to stone? All I'd wanted was a little companionship, a little...love. But his heart had hardened and his eyes grown cold. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to love you if I had known this would happen. Now I'll never hear you talk to me again, never hear your voice call my name. Never hear you say, "I love you, Medusa..."