What two weeks do to you when you cease to speak to the one you love:*
Dreams.
They haunt you, day and night, filled with images of the past, possibilities of the future.
The future you envisonned for the both of you, once upon a time.
The future you destroyed before it destroyed you.
Memories.
A smell, a slightly similar profile, a piece of clothing that looks just so…
It's not him.
Anger.
Sadness.
Freedom.
In this order.
Let the emotions run you, let yourself feel the spectrum of emotions, you will wear yourself out
Eventually.
Eventually is the word I hold on to, still.
Soon.
One day.
Perhaps.
I spend my nights with you and my days finding you everywhere I go.
But the days, they pass.
And you, you disappear.
Eventually, you'll be gone.
And I,
I will be
Free