Photographs
Photographs
It’s so dark and so, so cold, but that’s okay because I’m alive, right? This is living, right?
The steady dripping is nothing more than a leaky water pipe but my mind twists it, forcing me back to when a water pipe wasn’t the only thing dripping and the photos that litter the walls… they weren’t just photographs.
But I’m alive, right? So I have to be happy for that. You’d want me to be happy, wouldn’t you, Bill?
I can imagine if you were still here. You’d link your arms around my waist like you always used to, nuzzling into my neck, nipping at it gently if I tried to squirm away. Your breath in my ear, asking what was wrong, pulling away and giving me ‘the look’ if I lied and told you that it was nothing.
“Please, Tomi…”
Fuck, I can practically hear your voice but it’s only in my mind, right? It’s all in my head because I’m alive… I’m alive even if you aren’t any more.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
You’re looking around the room now, such sadness in your eyes, your gaze moving over the bed I can’t sleep in, the photos on the walls, the photos on the floor, on the desk, on the bedside table…
Sad brown eyes take in the scars on my arms, the crimson-stained razorblade on the floor, next to the photographs.
We’re both smiling in the pictures, in one of them I’m kissing your cheek and you’re laughing.
In that picture your laughing face is smudged almost beyond recognition with tears that fell only this morning.
It hurt to have you taken from me like that, it wasn’t right and it shouldn’t have been you. It should have been me but I’m alive and I have to be thankful for that, right?
Oh god, how I miss you…
The steady dripping is nothing more than a leaky water pipe but my mind twists it, forcing me back to when a water pipe wasn’t the only thing dripping and the photos that litter the walls… they weren’t just photographs.
But I’m alive, right? So I have to be happy for that. You’d want me to be happy, wouldn’t you, Bill?
I can imagine if you were still here. You’d link your arms around my waist like you always used to, nuzzling into my neck, nipping at it gently if I tried to squirm away. Your breath in my ear, asking what was wrong, pulling away and giving me ‘the look’ if I lied and told you that it was nothing.
“Please, Tomi…”
Fuck, I can practically hear your voice but it’s only in my mind, right? It’s all in my head because I’m alive… I’m alive even if you aren’t any more.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
You’re looking around the room now, such sadness in your eyes, your gaze moving over the bed I can’t sleep in, the photos on the walls, the photos on the floor, on the desk, on the bedside table…
Sad brown eyes take in the scars on my arms, the crimson-stained razorblade on the floor, next to the photographs.
We’re both smiling in the pictures, in one of them I’m kissing your cheek and you’re laughing.
In that picture your laughing face is smudged almost beyond recognition with tears that fell only this morning.
It hurt to have you taken from me like that, it wasn’t right and it shouldn’t have been you. It should have been me but I’m alive and I have to be thankful for that, right?
Oh god, how I miss you…