Traces of a nonexistent past. Shadows paint the walls with scenes tinged of nostalgia. Moments of joy and of tears jumbled together.
I can still hear the sweet melody of your laughter as we huddled under the blankets in our bed. The scent of your hair fills my nose while your tears stain my shirt as I try to comfort your pain and grief. Of course, not all was so serene.
Our screams trying to claim strength over the other while unsure of what was being discussed to begin with. The uncertainty of what each of these fight’s resolution would actually bring.
You fill up every corner and crevice of this place. Your very image is etched so deep into my mind that no substance can wash it away. Distance has helped and you have begun to fade.
I no longer reach out to you in my sleep nor expect to wake up to the sound of your voice. Your visage does not haunt the faces of the women I see.
With more time, you will be nothing more than a memory, and eventually less than that.