By deb. L.
Date: 15 February 2001
Don't wake up
I’m staring at my cupboard drawers. It’s pretty much all I do nowadays. Emptiness casts a glance in this apartment, now that you’re gone. Everything I look at is empty. I try to read, the words are there, but they’re empty too. I sigh, pick up my coat and walk outside my door. Steam creeps up out of the ground, newspapers beg at my feet. I talk a walk in the park like we used to do every Wednesday. I realize that the very things I loved to do with you I no longer can. Pain stabs me in the heart. Heading back to our, or rather now my apartment, I’m gloomy and angry, angry that I let you walk out the door. Bolt the door, throw myself at you, anything, yet nothing. I tell myself, it’ll all be better tomorrow. When I wake up, my eyes hurt. I’ve been crying again. Sleep it off I say, a dark dreamless sleep is a blessing now. I don’t ever want to wake up.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner