I close the door behind you and wait for my senses to register your absence.

I can hear the stillness that suddenly fills the cold apartment.

I can taste the silence echoing off of the pale grey walls. Even the rain comes to a halt and won’t dare to speak up.

I hear the quiet teardrops as they carve salty trails in my skin that’s still warm from your touch.

I see the smell of you, already starting to fade.

I said I wouldn’t do that, but I rush to the window to catch the last glimpse of you, already so distant and out of my reach. But the spring is in full and the trees, too green with leaves, won’t allow me one more…

Will my life forever consist of goodbyes now?

I feel the damn trees staring back at me, the wall between you and me.

“Maybe that’s good?” a voice says. “Maybe you should be grateful for having someone to say goodbye to. Maybe you should treasure the hardest goodbyes the most.”

Maybe,” I blow my nose, chewing on the word. “Well, screw your maybes. They still won’t bring him back.”


4 thoughts on “Maybe

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