ANOTHER QUIET MORNING IN THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES. I HAVE LEARNED TO LOVE IT HERE. —
I open my eyes with a grunt, seeing yet again that I’ve somehow managed to roll over to your side, arms wrapped around a pillow that feels nothing like you. No warmth. No sleepy grin. No groans of protest as I press slow, careful morning kisses against your skin. Mind fuzzy from dreams of the past, I slip out of bed, feet leading me to the kitchen before I can tell myself otherwise. Melancholy sips black coffee with me yet again this morning, reminding me that this will be yet another day without you by my side. It’s alright, though. I don’t mind it. I could use the company. Finishing the mug, I am soon to walk to the porch, the first, weak rays of sunlight filtering through the trees and against my skin. Before I know what has happened, anger is gripping my shoulder, muttering in my ear about how you left in such a hurry, that you barely said goodbye. The mug shatters to the ground, and I am breathless. With a sigh, the broken pieces are collected, no matter how scattered they are. I wish I could do that with pieces of myself. Eyes closing, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. One more moment. One more hour. One more day. If I wait long enough, maybe you’ll come back. —
I KNOW I SHOULD COME TO TERMS WITH THE FACT THAT YOU WILL NEVER ENTER MY DOOR AGAIN, BUT SOMETIMES I JUST CANNOT HELP MYSELF. I DROWN IN THE SWEETNESS OF YOUR MEMORY WHENEVER I CAN, LETTING IT INTOXICATE ME JUST AS BAD AS WHISKEY. NUMBNESS TUGS AT MY HEART AND I KNOW IT IS TIME TO LET YOU GO. MAYBE ANOTHER DAY.