Remembrance


I stood in the rain and almost forgot him. It's hard to believe but it was the warmest I've felt in years.
It's a custom, I'm told, to do everything in your power to remember those who've passed away. Me? I never quite understood that. But then, I've always been selfish; why would I choose to prolong this pain?
I've tried desperately to erase the memories. Burnt all my photos, threw out his old clothes, repressed every memory.

Better to be hollow than feel this way. That's what I've always told myself.

I lay in bed at night, the sheets soft against my flesh and my mind betrays me. I feel his fingers trailing down my spine and it's almost like he's there again. Just a bigger disappointment when I turn over and he's still gone. These days, I use alcohol to numb the pain; my liquid mistress to sing me to sleep.

If I can't think, I can't remember. That's what I've always told myself.



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