While she was gone. I thought about life without her. It wouldn’t be the same again. I was now back to my cave. What would my friends say? They’d always told me to have someone on the side. Someone more reliable to respond to my needs. Close enough that I would speed dial. Close enough that when I’m under the weather their body is the first warmth I wake up to in the morning. She would be that one person I turn to for my joy that was grieved with sadness.
Truth of it all is that I was so much in love and my head buried in it. Her thereness was unmatched, her physical presence would do things to my mind. And there was no way I was willing to undo all those special moments. The heat her presence brought whenever we wrapped our bodies together. Wrapped in a promise of better days. Our future was always flapped like a letter that opened every time to remind us of tomorrow. As time went by I began feeling like she was the one. And there was no need to be outrageous and sleep around. I wasn’t afraid of loneliness. For now I’m reminded of the comfort I felt. I was wrong to think I had it all.
Now that I’m back to being a single tortured soul, I drown myself in places beer flows free, where coffee never runs dry, where light is barely seen, where cigarette smoke slinks deep into my lungs, where bodies crease my back with sharp piercing nipples. Where I sit and run my fingers through my head. Wait to speak last when finally knackered by my whiskey. Slurping my last sip and hurling insults. Clear my throat and tell my story:
“I was so stupid to have believed in love, I was supposed to be patient, but I was so impatient, stupid and rational. Look at me now, I’m in cold sweat, wasted by love’s grief”
I’m at war with my soul. I make up horrors in my head, I know nothing about. The sound of her voice haunts this wretched soul. The pieces left of me are completely drifted apart, no amount of gluing will get me together. I speak words that are exhaled like stable smoke, with lots of despair. Jokes speak to me like ghosts hidden in my dry bones, all I see is dawn to dawn. There’s never light in between. I find myself folded on the sofa. Ripped and shred. In my moments of abandon. Awful is all I am.