She sits against the wall every night

2:18 AM

“That’s a good time,” he once said.
Going over every lost moment and every out-of-reach laugh
Mentally comparing the feel of his hands to the roughness of dried concrete
And letting her mind wander in the middle
Of deserted parks with empty benches
Every once in a while, she’d gasp for air
Like she was drowning in her deepest thoughts
A cigarette in hand and a cold blanket of wind
She felt comfortable in corners
Said, having two walls support you the way a lover’s hands should

2:30 AM

“It’s time to leave,” she’d whisper.
Unmoving but eyes constantly searching the oblivion she was in
Hands shaking not from the drop in temperature
But from the emptiness of holding onto nothing
Closing her eyes to listen to the secrets between the rustling leaves
And the howling wind
Now and then she’d take a deep breath
The same way tourists savor their experiences

3:00 AM

“You’re not coming back,” a resounding thought.
Holding back the wracking sobs threatening to escape its confines
Like an animal in a rusting iron cage
Quakes travelling from fingertips to the emptiness in her chest
“You’ll forget,” they said.
And you do.
You forget the body heat, then the voices
Faces will begin to blur until they’re completely gone
And you’re left with a static memory
of the person that you lost to accidents and circumstance

4:00 AM

She leaves.