Every morning begins the same way,
with the sun breaking through the curtains,
a cascade of light too familiar to be ignored.
I rise, brush my teeth, pour a cup of coffee,
just as anyone might.
But as the steam rises, so do memories of you,
woven into the very fabric of my routine.
The way you’d sing off-key,
each morning our private concert,
your voice cracking in the cold air of dawn.
I try to shake it off, shrug on my jacket,
face the day with a smile that’s been practiced,
polished for the world to see.
If they ask if I love you still,
I say no.
Walking through the park, the bench where we sat
still holds our laughter, a silent witness
to promises made underneath the flowering tree.
The leaves whisper secrets we once shared,
their rustling a gentle reminder of what was.
At work, I drown myself in tasks,
each completed assignment a temporary reprieve
from the relentless tide of you.
Colleagues ask about my weekend,
and I say it was well, but...
Lunch is a battlefield of silence,
your absence a companion I cannot escape.
The taste of your favorite dish lingers
on my tongue, taunting me,
and I swallow hard, trying to get past the bitter aftertaste.
Evenings bring a different kind of loneliness,
the kind that sits heavy, filling the space
where your voice once echoed.
I cook for one, but the table is set for two,
and yet...
I wander through aisles in the store,
grocery list in hand,
But every face that passes by,
every pair of eyes that meets mine,
I search, hoping for a glimpse of your gaze,
that familiar warmth, that impossible hope
that you might be here.
Nights are the hardest, when the world quiets
and there’s nothing in the world that can drown you out.
The pillow holds your scent, faded but persistent,
and I find myself tracing the outline of your face
in the darkness.
My hand reaches out...
In dreams, you return,
not as a specter of pain, but as the vibrant,
lively person I fell in love with.
We dance in moonlight, your laughter
a melody that breaks my heart anew
each time I wake.
If they ask if I’ve moved on,
I’ll smile, a rehearsed gesture,
and tell them yes, I’ve found peace.
But the truth lies in the spaces between words,
in the pauses where your name used to be.
The sun breaks through the curtains. I groan and rise, brush my teeth, pour a cup of coffee.
I take a step and your name slithers around my throat.
And yet, in my mind its...
Its. Always. You.
You are etched into my soul as we etched our initials into that tree.
A brand marked on me:
Your Name
