I haven’t left yet, but I feel like I’m already gone.

We’re both here, but the here I’m at and the here you’re at are not the same place.

Say something. Anything. I’m desperate for your voice.

Can you still hear me? I used to be your favourite tune, the song stuck on repeat, the soundtrack of your life.

Our life.

Our hearts, synchronised, used to pound to the same crazy rhythm.

Your arms used to be my home. My shelter. My safe haven. Now they lie limply by your sides when you’re asleep.

So goddamn peaceful.

I watch your eyelids twitch while you’re dreaming. And even when you’re dreaming without me, it’s still hard to leave.

It’s still hard to leave, even when I’m already gone.


15 thoughts on “Gone

  1. Because you write with so much emotion – the ache is welcome because it means I’m engaged. I want to feel something; it’s a sign of connection between author and reader. Fabulous! 😊

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