A lifelong amount of moments to a matter of seconds in my head, a few drops of liquid in my brain that could have erased all of the miserable feelings in my uneasy gut.

You used to always roll my sleeves up for me, but now my sweaters are in the closet and they're catching dust.
And now winter is coming, but I would have worn them for you in the summer.

What am I to do to fill this gap inbetween us. Maybe I'll fill it with the trash I have laying around my room, or in my soul. Maybe I'll fill it with a million hours of occupation, money, and material objects. Maybe another could fill it with their baggage and sadness, their big eyes with questions of doubt and love.
But no, don't you dare trust a thing I say, because I have not a clue what could possibly fill a hole the size of the universe.

No, that’s not how it goes.
Start again.
Do you remember the tree on the lake?
It was a forest.
No, it was black, like tar. It tasted like broken glass.
I remember the incense on the drapes.
Yes. It clung to our clothes.
You cried.
No, I smiled.
You cried smiling.
Yes.
I hate it when this happens.
What happens?
You know?
No.
Um. Sometimes it feels like the world is too crowded with words. Like it's too dense to speak.
That--
Like there’s something in the air that pushes against my throat.
There was a black dog, just then.
What?
Outside. It’s gone now. Sorry. Start again.
Do you remember the tree on the lake?
There was a raven.
Yes.
It was black like tar.
It caught a worm once.
Ravens don’t eat worms.
Yeah. It just sat there, with the worm in its beak. The worm squirmed, wrapping itself round the beak, over and over.
Is that why you were crying?
It wouldn’t stop. It kept going, digging its flesh deeper into the edges.
What was your father doing?
Smiling.
Why?
He’d filed for a divorce earlier.
Right. I wasn’t there.
No, you weren’t.
Do you regret locking the doors?
Sometimes I can taste the rain before it comes. It’s a skill I’ve had for as long as I can remember.
I’m lost. So your father was smiling?
No, he was crying.
Sorry. I swear I just--nevermind. Start again.
There was a storm in these parts when we were young. The worst storm in a hundred years.
I don’t remember.
You slept through it. I held your hand all night.
Why?
Because I was alone.
You still are.
Yes.
I hate it when this happens.
What happens?
You know?
Yes.
Where have you been?
Everywhere but here.
And where will you go?
Nowhere.
Sometimes when I look at you, it’s like looking through static. It’s like I’m looking at an impression of a person.
I get that a lot.
It’s like all my memories of you have blurred together. Vague feelings rise out of the haze. Feelings I recognise, yet cannot describe. I cannot connect them with who you are, what we were, or where we’ve been. It’s--
Like exiting a dream.
Yes. Exactly.
You feel a gap in your soul. One that has always been.
Always been. You held my hand, once.
During the worst storm in a hundred years.
When was that?
Every night.

Everything that we ever saw together, every time I made you laugh or you made me laugh, every feeling and memory we ever shared and made, has been reduced to just two strangers with dust in their blood.

I remember a time when
I mattered.
So far away now,
Forgotten
Under scars of time.
Indifferent from
the heartache,
It's perspective dulling
Memory.
A rot
Uncertainty
Inhumanity.
I was born
Unnoticed,
To be forgotten.