waking up

he has left me. i wake up feeling empty inside, the hollowness echoes deep down. i feel my way around, out of bed, my head throbs as i hold on to it. each and every pound feels like it could knock off my head. he has left me, taking everything that belonged to me, to him, to us. i try to move to the bathroom, but i feel like i am under water, every step prolonged with difficulty. i stare into the mirror, a pasty yellowed face stares back. my eyes appear to be sunken in, dark circles round them. i can cry no more, dry and dusty, all tapped out. i try scrubbing my face using all the strength i could summon. the neighbour switches on the radio, strains of 'sad eyes' float in.

i close my eyes and listen to the lyrics of the song. the song that he loves because i have sad eyes. he says that sad eyes never lie, and i, never lied to him before. but he lied to me, he still left me in the end. i feel the anger surge within me, like a wild fire in the dry forest, raging to a state of no control.

i see glimmers of him in my bedroom, dancing with my bear, laughing to the tune of 'dancing queen'. i watch him from the bathroom door, singing at the top of his voice. but the glimmer fades before i can step towards him. i want to break down and cry again, i sit on the bowl, allowing sobs to rack my body. where is he now? will he still remember me?

his scent still lingers in the room. that is one of the things he cannot take away from me, apart from memories. i wonder if i want to think about him, coz each time i do, a sharp pain stabs me. he's the one who is turning the knife inside me, and i'm bleeding. i wonder if i can bled to death, drain of all emotions and all hurt and pain. i'm like a living corpse. i long to be with him again, long to hear his voice resonating in my ears, telling me all about his hopes, his visions, his touch on my skin, his eyes gazing into mine.

the suns shines brightly into my room as i draw back the curtains. a new day, a new beginning, a new life, all without him. the dress is laid out and i pick it up, putting it on, my heart is heavy. i decide against putting on make up, i see no point doing so. he is no longer there to see me, why should i bother. i shouldn't bother to do anything anymore. i have no purpose in my preceding activities. i urgently need to find something or someone else to concentrate on.

so that i don't have to think about why i'm forcing myself to dress up on a day when all i rather do is to hide under covers. or that it is his funeral that i am preparing for.

1454h m.eng