What is it all becoming, if not sorrow?
The nights wonder how his breath feels on the back of her head; ache for a touch, a gaze. The mornings cling desperately to a fading dream..
Perhaps amnesia is all you’ve left to wish for; forgetting his name, your own.. his maddening words. ‘One day’ he says, but you can’t bear it. Your whole body turns into a wound and you keep waiting for the skin to fall off so you could breathe again; but you know his absence shrinks around your neck every time your heart beats amiss.
Let me be! you beg. Let me be yours..