six months.
six in the evening on the sixth day of this month ... i sat for a moment and i remembered when i didn't have a meaning for this moment ... it was just another minute of just another day ... it was just another second. i was just another girl smiling at you.
i've been pushing against these memories, trying to hold on to how i used to see you, genius and tumbling, laughing and cynical, loving and open. but, god, i close my eyes, and it doesn't follow through. i don't see what i could. i don't want these memories that surface, and i don't want this pain anymore. i don't want to be lonely for one more night, and i can't feel you next to me anymore.
how you used to take it all away into more than an excuse, an escape. "it will get better soon, i promise." one hand holding a cigarette and the other propping me up when i went to that place only you could lead me back from.
half the time, i want to scream until i only see the white of pain. push this harsh stab out of me until i'm grabbing at the ground like the earth is quaking. the rest, i just want quiet. i just want to fall and fade until i find you again.
one last cigarette for the night, and i take in each breath of smoke with the rhythm of my tears hoping for a taste of what i'm left with now. i'm just so far from what we built as home.
i know i put this cd on the stereo on purpose, but i thought it would make me feel better, and i thought i'd find something closer to you. but it's only making me hurt. it's only bringing the days you've been gone come closer together and accumulate into the six months you've been gone. it just makes me loathe the quiet spaces in between the songs that we used to love.
as i'm laying here on this tiny floor, i just want to hear your footsteps and the clink of your wallet chain and the soft tone of your voice telling me nothing more simple than that you're home.
