Status: Reposted after the server crash. Reposting the comments is welcome.
Orchestra of Breathing
Orchestra of Breathing.
My beloved,
Has it really been that long since you've left? I've stopped counting the days when it became obvious that you weren't coming back. I could not torture myself like that. Each minute without you was unbearable regardless of how many of them passed. Ten, or ten hundred, or ten thousand. It's just words, syllables that have no meaning except being a mask for pain.
Someone told me to let go of you but how can I? Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, your presence is screaming at me. The creaking of the couch you used to sit at, the rustle of pages when you read a book. The clink of the spoon against the tea cup, the clank of the fork in the kitchen basin. The thump of your feet hitting the stairs when you rushed down to answer the door, the shuffling when you walked across the room, mumbling to yourself. The sharp rapping of the computer keyboard and the muffled splashing of the shower and the jingle of the keys in the front door.
Each corner is filled with you. I can't escape. I don't want to escape.
And at night, when I lie in the bed and hate that it doesn't smell like you anymore, I think of my favourite sounds. I think of your voice. Your laughter. Your singing. And most of all, I think of your breath. When I close my eyes in the darkness, I hear you breathing as you sleep next to me, breathing slowly and deeply. I want to raise my arm, reach to the side and touch you, sleep-warm and solid and alive and next to me, but I know you won't be there, so I just clench my fist and think, think of your breathing. How it became almost inaudible when you concentrated on something. How it sounded when you blew on your tea, cooling it. How it turned into wheezes when you ran across the house. How you sucked it in when I pulled you close to me unexpectedly. How it became quicker when I pressed my lips against your neck and dragged them along your collabone. How it turned into moans. How you couldn't control it, how you gasped and panted and inhaled and exhaled and sighed and I miss your breathing, I miss you and I want you back.
Why did you leave me? Why did you leave without an explanation, without a note; why did you leave me here to shrivel and die?
Come back, come back and breathe the life into me.
Ever yours, S.
Has it really been that long since you've left? I've stopped counting the days when it became obvious that you weren't coming back. I could not torture myself like that. Each minute without you was unbearable regardless of how many of them passed. Ten, or ten hundred, or ten thousand. It's just words, syllables that have no meaning except being a mask for pain.
Someone told me to let go of you but how can I? Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, your presence is screaming at me. The creaking of the couch you used to sit at, the rustle of pages when you read a book. The clink of the spoon against the tea cup, the clank of the fork in the kitchen basin. The thump of your feet hitting the stairs when you rushed down to answer the door, the shuffling when you walked across the room, mumbling to yourself. The sharp rapping of the computer keyboard and the muffled splashing of the shower and the jingle of the keys in the front door.
Each corner is filled with you. I can't escape. I don't want to escape.
And at night, when I lie in the bed and hate that it doesn't smell like you anymore, I think of my favourite sounds. I think of your voice. Your laughter. Your singing. And most of all, I think of your breath. When I close my eyes in the darkness, I hear you breathing as you sleep next to me, breathing slowly and deeply. I want to raise my arm, reach to the side and touch you, sleep-warm and solid and alive and next to me, but I know you won't be there, so I just clench my fist and think, think of your breathing. How it became almost inaudible when you concentrated on something. How it sounded when you blew on your tea, cooling it. How it turned into wheezes when you ran across the house. How you sucked it in when I pulled you close to me unexpectedly. How it became quicker when I pressed my lips against your neck and dragged them along your collabone. How it turned into moans. How you couldn't control it, how you gasped and panted and inhaled and exhaled and sighed and I miss your breathing, I miss you and I want you back.
Why did you leave me? Why did you leave without an explanation, without a note; why did you leave me here to shrivel and die?
Come back, come back and breathe the life into me.
Ever yours, S.