It’s over. You’re gone. I’m getting used to it; bit by bit, the ache of longing in me is starting to fade, smoky and silent.
Come sunrise, I’m going to greet the world with a grin, and a charming bell of laughter.
The thing is, I’m genuinely happy. There is no need to fake smiles, to cough up giggles. The thing is, I only come undone at night.
When doors are locked. Windows closed. Teeth brushed. Faces washed.When the curtains come down, blinds are shut, and children say their prayers before they’re tucked in.When the moon and the stars come out of hiding to grace us with their quiet majesty. When all has been said and done, and all that’s left to do is close my eyes and sleep.
That’s when it hits me. Never again will your warmth envelop me better a blanket. I wish to burn my mattress and pillows, just to get your scent off of them. Because I can’t sleep with these cruel reminders of you. Because every breath I take lying in the dark by myself only reminds me of the breaths we shared, an unforgettable cocktail of oxygen and carbon dioxide.
I’m going to have to get used to sleeping alone again. After all, I only have enough pillows and blankets for one. This bed really isn’t made for two people.