The Night after

takes me bck….wish i had such healthy view of the breakup as soon as this writer did. But I still to this day pray for her and worry if shes ok…everyday. Guess thatll always be the case….

The night after a break up.


It is unusually cold, physically, even the sheets seem cold after hours of laying in them. Quiet. Still. Thoughtless yet thinking too much about nothing specific. i imagine i’m fingering the files in the cabinet of my brain, touching here and there.. perhaps seeking something that will gain my interest.a distraction? maybe.

 I have  learnt that tossing and turning leads to more confusion so I lie still. Listening to the sounds of the night while hugging myself. the hum of our laptops, the fridge making me smile, ticking on and off sounding as though it’s sneezing. music from the other rooms and my own breathing.  It’s not that I’m hurting. It’s just a dull thud, quiet but in this silence a bit to loud for someone seeking the temporary amnesia sleep brings.

My inner Juliet dies yet another quiet death. not as tragic as The…

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