Since you’ve been gone


Dear You,

I’m beginning to wonder if you’re even reading this. Are my words reaching you? Are they providing you any solace at all?

How was your day? I ask far too many questions but I’m not nosy, I’m just wondering how you are.

I hope you get enough sleep these days. Tell me, has winter reached your doorstep yet?

I wonder if I should even post this letter. Or do I let it get lost in this huge world where unrequited love lives in every corner?

I’ve been thinking about you.

I close my eyes and remember your smile. The way your hand felt in mine – warm and soft. The way my heart slowed down as you held me close in your sleep, even when you snored heavily in my ears.

I have never felt yearning as I have since you’ve been gone. I have tasted it in the long evenings, as the sun slowly set.

I have felt it during a lonely lunch, surrounded by beautiful friends; On the way back home, in the elevator and in my room. I have crossed the road with it, as it held on to my dress, scared it would be left behind.

And then, on some days it feels like I’m drowning, on others I barely make it to the surface.

So if you ever get this letter, know that I miss you more than I can ever explain. Know that you’ve left a hole so big in my life that all the cold is beginning to seep in.

There’s so much more I’d like to ask you, darling,

But I’ll only end with this,

Won’t you come back home, please?

Things we need to talk about. 

I never liked empty spaces, hearts or homes.
So I started filling them both.
A couch here, a person there, a coffee table where it wasn’t needed,
a lover when there was space for none.

In hindsight it wasn’t the room full of things that bothered me.
Rooms could be filled and emptied, things could be bought and sold.

But people… people were the problem.
They came at their will sometimes, and that was all right.
It was their leaving that I  never recovered from.

Dear diary.

I didn’t know what I was doing and where I was heading to. I simply existed. I did all the essential things that had to be done to survive.

On a few occasions I’d forget to breathe, other times I’d deliberately hold my breath to see how far I could go, until my mother would come asking what I wanted for dinner. And you don’t ignore her. Sometimes, I think that was what brought me back to reality, her questions and the heady smell of garlic she often used to cook, two things that I grudgingly grew to love.

The incessant chatter of my parents was often drowned by the chirping of the birds (that would wake me up in the morning). I never understood why they had to sound so cheerful, even though they might just be talking about how annoying the day is.

Sometimes I’d just watch the world go by, dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn. I’d fall asleep in between, waking up to a slightly confused state of mind. ‘What day is it?’, I’d wonder, ‘Am I home?’, was what often followed.

It seemed like a rather monotonous way to live,
But maybe, just maybe, that was what I needed to do.
To simply exist for a while.


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One day as you sit in  your car, waiting for the signal to turn green,
You’ll realise that you’ve stopped hurting.
The past will begin to feel like a dull ache, one whose absence you won’t feel.
It’ll happen slowly and then suddenly, when you least expect it.
As you look back at life, the music in the car will grow faint…
And you’ll realise… that just like the rose that bloomed only to slowly wither…
Everything comes to an end.
Everything, especially pain.
Then, you begin to heal.