August 20, 2010

The morning rain clouds up my window.

Letting you go was the hardest thing I could do. I wake up in the morning, roll over to the left side and stretch my arm out, waiting for your fingers to intertwine with mine. Your fingertips tracing the cracks in my palm. Remember the times when you'd pretend like you were sleeping, when I'd try waking you up, and then you'd suddenly open your eyes and scare the living daylights out of me, and jump out of bed? But there's an empty space on the other side of the bed, a slight human sized dent. The dirty sneakers in the corner have magically disappeared. So has the photo-frame and the AC/DC poster. The usual pile on the desk is now replaced by a sober vase adorned with a couple of yellow roses. It doesn't smell like you anymore. Why is the carton of Soya milk missing? As much as I hated the stuff, I miss seeing it there suddenly. I pinch myself and hope its just another silly dream. Another one of those absurd moments where you're so convinced that its a reality. The clock is still ticking. The wind still makes my windows rattle, and I am all alone.

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