A collection of words from thoughts on loss; of both love and identity

My wardrobe is untouched, the same as before the last time we spoke. Makes me think that I’m lazy or maybe I don’t care for what can’t be seen, so long as things seem fine they are fine. I don’t want to dig deep enough to find memories. Maybe it’s a fear of change. Oh, but I have changed?

Dyed my hair.

Pierced my skin, tattooed it even. That’ll last forever, but it’s not as infinite as this.

New clothes.

More art.

I tell myself this is what I needed, but I am exhausted. Pulled from limb to limb, scrambling to search for myself; where have I been?

I loved you as best I could under the summer sun when we were younger; little babes learning of love. And I loved you under the cold night sky during winter when you thought you were not worthy of my love. Those hours live on in my heart.

Now I drink my chai on the way to work every morning while the sun rises for a new day, reminds me I must rise too. I’m sure I can live without you, it’s just hard and sometimes I’m not sure I want to. I can’t listen to those songs anymore, the last time they kissed my ears you were by my side and the pain that brings me feels unbearable. I grieve for you every day.

In my mind, we will always be sitting on the train coming home, my head on your shoulder. I am safe there. Warm. Peaceful. I am asleep and you are awake. You’re watching me so we don’t miss our stop and because you think I’m nice to look at; pretty. You never told me why or when you stopped thinking that, but I saw you look at me differently that morning. And you never told me when or why you grew sick of letting me sleep. I wish you did. I would’ve spent my whole lifetime awake for you. That’s silly. My heart still hurts and thanks for that.

So I need to stop believing we were soul mates of some sort because even if we were it doesn’t matter anymore.