January 19th:
The plaid sheets that used to be home to all of our memories, is now stained with my tears. I want you to know that you’re still there and that your hoodie is still sitting in the back of my closet, its scent strong enough for me to smell the memories of those winter nights. Your half-empty box of Camels is tucked away in the opening under my floorboards. I always thought that would be what would’ve killed you, not that **** car.

“Those things ‘ill **** you.” I would always say.

“If these things are the one to **** me, I guess we weren’t together long enough for you to do it.” You would always reply, with that quirky smirk of yours.

These are the conversations that I miss the most. Sitting on those sheets and pretending you’re right there is how I spend my days. They said that we were young and stupid and didn’t know anything about love. That we wouldn’t even remember each other’s names come next year. I miss you, God I miss you and I just wish you would come home to where you belong, with me.

Jess




January 22nd:
It’s 11:27 pm and I’m sitting on your grave. I have permanent tearstains on my face I can’t stop crying. Stupid you and your stupid grin that I fell in love with in the first place. Stupid you and your stupid scar above your right eyebrow that you got when you fell off of your bike as a kid. Stupid you. I love you. Can’t you see that? I’m right here, and I love you and want you here with me.

Jess