I called it the aftermath
The missing pieces,
lost within an infinite domain,
existing yet lost within itself.
The depressing nights,
alone in the dark,
missing what seemed like our forever.
The sleepless nights,
crying beneath our- my sheets,
still stained with your scent.
The tasteless coffee,
burning down the forest in my throat,
watered with cheap shots of alcohol
The vapid voices,
entering my ears,
and leaving just as fast.
The hollow eyes,
surrounded by the shadow of the moon,
infiltrated with the dullness of the setting sun.
My house no longer felt like my own.
It felt like the remains of something that was used to be
Ancient, old and forgotten.
Remnants of a distant past.
My heart was broken into a lot of colorful pieces.
It seemed like the breath one would take before his last
The beautiful goodbye
The perfect parting of pain
The last shudder that followed the halting of the rain
It was the farewell that echoed through centuries, unend.
I smile as I repeat to myself,
Change is good.
I called it the aftermath
It was the pieces found
in my own eyes,
bits and pieces of happiness.
It was the evenings alone,
completely satisfied and
curled up in my new sheets.
The sleep-filled nights,
lying on my bed
because thinking of you no longer scared me.
The bitter coffee
tasted like bitter coffee;
a pang of “good morning” to start my day.
It was the enraged voices,
in my head,
silenced at last.
It was the look in his eyes
In them I saw the universe, the stars, and the world
In them I saw no trace of you.
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