640 days

The memories are all I have now, and they follow me everywhere.

Like a child desperate for attention, they clamor and cling.

It's impossible for them not to. I now live in your city, without you. 

You are everywhere I look- in the skyline, the coffee shop, the bike locked up outside of my apartment building.

I feel you in the air, and tattooed into my skin.

I go to work. I answer emails and phone calls.

I eat lunch and make small talk.

I smile and pretend to know what I'm doing.

I go into a bathroom stall and cry.

At home, the pillow draws a dividing line down my bed.

Do not cross, it tells me- There is nothing left for you on this side. 

The emptiness keeps me from sleep, and the silence deafens me.

Pain spills from my eyes, and rips ragged breaths from my chest.

I miss the sound of you breathing, and falling asleep intertwined.

I miss your hand in mine, and the click of shared footsteps on the pavement.

I miss the life we had, and mourn for the one that will never get to be.

I have fallen spectacularly apart.

It will get better, they say.

I believe them until we disconnect our call.

I am alone, and it has never felt worse. 

Be careful what you wish for.  

I want you to know that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you didn't feel how much I loved you.

I'm sorry that I hurt you, it was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

I'm sorry that I couldn't make it work, it was all I ever wanted to do. 

I know how hard you tried, and how hard you loved.

You couldn't have done any better. 

I want you to know that I love you and that I miss you, and that I tried hard too.

You occupy my thoughts constantly.

Listening to the radio is impossible, walking the city is too painful.

I want to call you when I see an Agatha Christie novel in a used bookstore, or when I make chicken pot pie.

I want to go to Sabrina's with you for brunch, and laugh at silly movie quotes.

I want to wake up in your bed to the sounds of vinyl spinning downstairs on a rainy morning. 

I want the life we were supposed to have. 

"What will you do about Philly?" you asked before you left.

"I haven't gotten that far yet," I replied.

"...first, I have to try and figure out what my life is supposed to be now."