You Left Me in the Dark

It happened at night.

I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to say goodbye one last time; I'm sorry you were alone in that small, cold bed that wasn't even yours, taking your last breath tucked in pitiful white sheets.

Want to know the worst part?

That is I already was conscious of it. I was fighting with you, we all were, slowly walking by your side while covering my face when tears wanted to come out. I wanted to be strong for you just as much as you’ve always been for me.

I had this lingering feeling that every time I saw you would also be the last. But still, it wasn’t enough for my foolish hope to wither.

Because that’s how you felt: home. And I didn’t, nor could I, let you go.

Warm hugs and safe arms, soft kisses against your prickly beard, late night races in the streets while you still could run. Watching some old western movie I did not care about at all, tormenting you to play with me. Going to the mall and eating an ice cream, talking about anything.

How many times I’ve hit “replay” on those memories while you were sick, recalling every moment I spent with you ever since I was born. Walking hand in hand with the past, because the present hurt me too much.

But still I couldn’t help but hope, and I held on that faith so tightly that falling was a hundred times louder. Trust me, I tried hard to fight it, but I guess my mind refused to accept your destiny.

I must be honest with you. Time does not heal anything, the habit does.

Hearing your name still burn like salt on an open wound, filling my mouth with bitterness and eyes with tears. But the only thing I have left, is to get used to it.

I won’t hug you anymore.

I won’t see you anymore.

I won’t hear your voice or laugh anymore.

And you won’t ever see me again as well.

It hurts so badly I sometimes feel darkness grabbing me so hard I can’t breathe, the voice stuck along my throat.

Still, everyday gets a little easier; I look at your door and I know you won’t come out, even if I feel like you would. I think about you but I know you won’t be there to listen to me.

I’m sorry for the times I made you suffer, I was a child.

I was a scared little girl, and I wanted to grow up with you so fucking badly.

I wished to have you by my side as I started school or dating boys, while I awkwardly tried to walk on this earth and create a life for myself.

I needed you when everything went wrong, and I still do. I would give anything to be held in your arms, even if just for as long as the blink of an eye.

You know, I still ask to myself if anything would be different now if you were here.

But then I stop myself, because the “what if” is an endless cycle which every question makes it a little harder to breathe. I don’t know what could have been, but right now it’s not.

You're gone now, and I’m glad your suffering came to an end.

The problem is that I dream of you, asleep or awake, everyday.

You're everywhere I go and in my every thought, in that little dark and dusty corner,

left empty, just like how you did with me.

Please take care of the part you took while flying to the eternal darkness.