You said goodbye that morning, but not that kind. I thought nothing more of it as the hours passed on, but it slowly occurred to me that something was amiss. Time spent without you opens a void in me. I'll always feel it when you've been gone for too long, and I needed it closed again. I returned home. My hopeful hand caressed the doorknob as the image of your body, bare beneath the moonlight, came to mind. I opened it, but bare beneath the moonlight were only sheets. You left the window open again, so everything was blue. I noticed my things were still scattered about, but yours weren't. The chills grew more lonesome, but I am all too familiar with this feeling. I took the longest breath of my life, wondering, is this your form of goodbye? The bed was still a mess from our last touch. The wind smelled like your perfume, the bathroom like your soap, but your shoes were all gone. Your clothes had all vanished, your essence, only there by memory. Just a single strand of your hair remained on the counter-top where your hairbrush used to lie. I wanted to doubt it, every ominous thought, but.

I'm sure you had your reasons.