34th day:
Flowers had color again. The sky
during the sunset was a painting
of orange and blue
on a velvet canvas. I wanted to
breathe the air as deeply as my
lungs could take. My fingers
could feel your skin again.
35th day:
Sometimes the noise of thoughts
broke me. Screams of regret.
Shrieks of anger.
I didn't say a word, I just
stared at the morning passing by.
Then the night was a space of
nothingness, the noise was silenced. Your lips
tasted like morphin.
36th day:
The war. The war was a dream,
even when it hurt. My hands
waved as memories moved faraway.
I slept through the day.
It's hard to look into your eyes
when I'm this lost.
37th day:
Your voice is a hook
in my heart, and I can't
let you down
anymore.
