I wake up crying most days. Okay, all of them. I stick my face in your closet for the smell of you lingers there. Your desk is the same. Your side of the table. And I sleep on the couch. … Continue reading
They brought a box by the house the other day. Your “belongings” from work. Amazing, isn’t it, that 13 years can be distilled into one box. Ordinary things, a snapshot of work life. But one thing brought me to my … Continue reading
And are you 20 again, or 37 like when I met you? And will you still love me when I cross that final barrier, far older? Or will I turn 27 again and we’ll have all the time we missed? … Continue reading
… another day ends. Another day without him. Another day of getting by. I live for the day he comes for me. I will slip the bonds that hold me here, so fast. To be with him again is everything.
And another day. I wake up and you’re not there. What’s the point? I get up because it’s expected. I know that you expect it. And I get through the day, hoping that I can die. Hoping the day ends … Continue reading
It’s a night with no stars, no moon, no light to ease the loneliness, the utter aloneness I feel without him. We were everything together, living in each other’s pocket. And now, that pocket is missing. Being alone is living … Continue reading
I didn’t think it was possible to cry this much, to be this sad about anything or anyone. But my tears are a fountain of despair of longing, of loneliness for the one person who can make it all just … Continue reading