there once was

6.10am, just done with my (hopefully) finally pi write up. it is too deep into the night for my weak heart to be awake for. the air is crisp outside, & i bang on the windows to escape into the floating field of mist outside, just like how my sunken heart thuds heavily on every side of my shattering chest to get out. it is impossible, it is impossible. i put on the playlist 'strange sounds' & the voices that once whispered aches into my bones live for one more night. oh how i have missed this. but what is this? pain? maybe pain can be such a sweet thing after all. i keep remembering, even though i know it is a heart crime to be looking back on then & missing all of it. each letter, each word exchanged took you a little further away from me, & soon i was only left with the option of watching you die (away), but this whole idea we both had was a truth i would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all. i miss when i could easily obliterate the cacophony that surrounds my head, i miss when being alone in a dark room meant being alive more than being tired, i miss when this place was so full & thick with sorrow & joy all at once, i miss when these sheets smelt like dreams & sleepiness & tears, i miss the piercing feeling i got as i read your words, read housekeeping all while something personal lulls in the background. painful, so painful, but so dear. i miss when only three things in life mattered— reading, writing, & the third— forever remains a mystery on this post, because i just can't seem to find the right way to say it

the sun is rising

& this is where we part, because ghosts don't live through all this wasted daylight