Breathing.

Sometimes i like to just sit and breathe…

Other times I like to just sit.

After everything came to an end, breathing had become a foreign concept to me. The air wasnt tempting me anymore as it had done in the past. And manipulation now has a new meaning in its entirety. 

My body had become an object and my love had become invisible to this man who looked at me as if I was the worst thing  that had ever happened to him.

I hold myself at night, curled up in a ball..and cry silent sobs..why..why this..and why that…and why would I ever have sex with someone who doesnt love me…why didnt he kiss me….why didnt he talk to me…why didnt i see?

Other times i try to scream at my old self in my old memories ‘Wake up!!!’.. ‘Wake up!!’ 

And i dont, because i am trapped in that beautiful moment. When we were driving and you grabbed my hand and smiled at me.

You smiled….at me…

Did i mean something to you then? Could you have maybe..just maybe been in love with me at that moment?

I am not sure… and i will never know. But i hope one day you can look back at that moment and enjoy it once again…

35PHOTO - Alexander Z - No title

photo credit. Alexander Z.

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I still feel you

Sometimes, when i wake up in the morning- my toes freezing and the air is ice cold- i can hear your voice whisper ‘come back to bed..’ i can feel you pull me back to your chest, the warmth enveloping me. Sometimes, i feel you like i always used to.

I usually just continue to slip out of bed and proceed to throw on a sweatshirt and put my socks on, but one time i looked back at the sheets- out of mere curiosity. To see if you were still there. To see if..maybe i was still dreaming. I could only hear myself breathe in heavily as i turned my head just enough…..

Empty. The sheets were bare and ice cold.

As I let go of my breathe I felt the sadness spill over my body- aching once again as if it hadnt moved in its entire lifetime. It was as if…this was the first time i tried to keep going. The first time I kept breathing.

I hate the fact that every morning I sit on my bed for an hour holding my own hand. gently moving my thumb over the back of my hand as you once used to.

I hate how I have to look in the mirror while i brush my teeth now, as if im trying to figure out what is wrong with me.

I hate how my mind plays back wonderful memories as if they really were wonderful to the both of us.

Sometimes I fall asleep and I can hear you say something. I think I can make it out… Sometimes I almost feel you say it. 

The truth is…most mornings I am awoken by hearing you say my name.

And i cry because I wish it were real..