Sleep

I wake suddenly, eyes peering open. Staring at the ceiling. Staring. An ability I wish I’d never developed: I’ve been haunted from the moment I stared into your eyes of emerald. The moment I stared, the moment I knew you were my destiny. The moment I stared, the moment I knew you were the one. The moment I stared, the moment I knew I would die when I lost you.

I lose everyone. I’ve lost everyone. I’ve lost you, and now I’ve lost myself. Who am I without a gentle hand around my waist, guiding me through theatre halls into theatre seats with theatre kissing. Who I am without the deep roar of a laugh, resonating through the walls like heavy thunder in a powerful storm. Who am I without my universe, my world, my only home. I am no more than an empty shell, washed onto the beach by waves that thrash carelessly against sandy beaches. I am open and raw. I feel nothing and everything all at once.

I lie in bed, alone. The silence is deafening. I long to hear the sound of your breath, heavy with sleep and dreams. I turn to your side of the bed, and sink into the emptiness you left behind. An emptiness that grabs me, and pulls me deep into the depths of my minds ocean. I am drowning at the hands of the emptiness you left behind. I am drowning at the hands of my lifelong dream. I am drowning at the hands of the man who loved me, but didn’t love himself in time.

I return to my side of the bed, eyes closing shut. Staring at the blank sheet behind my eyes. Staring. An ability I wish I’d never developed: I’ve been haunted from the moment I stared down at the wooden casket, slowly making its way into the ground. The moment I stared, the moment I knew you were gone. The moment I stared, the moment I knew I should have been there. The moment I stared, the moment I knew I could no longer save you.