vii. which could mean nothing

when time drags on for days, every morning when i wake up and i open my eyes, i see your shimmering golden eyes met mine. your beautiful eyelashes grazed me as a peck so soundly met my forehead, a smile so graceful carried the unspoken goodbye. i blinked, and now the dimmed yellow lights of my room greets my eyes and the sound of the fan stings my ears.

i take a shower and the water hits me in dark places that you're familiar with, and i drown my thoughts and soul as i brushed the soap off my body, hissing at the cold that goes up and down my spine. the buzz on my stomach reminds me on how i feel so sick, and how i get even sicker with the thought of you alone. but i brushed it off, because it doesn't mean anything.

i put on my black dress and a beige cardigan to hide my scars and go on with my days, thoughts echoing asking what i'm on this time, the unforgiving grip of my rough hands and the tremor in my touch echoed my yearning to hold you tight just as i did that night, even though it means nothing. 

i sip a glass of con hielo in the familiar place where it has seen your face, and put on my strawberry vanilla perfume. it hits me again this time, that it doesn't mean anything to you, that's for sure, it has been so easy for you to get out of me, and i've been praying on how it'll get out of me. 

i laughed and joke away with my friends and pull up my sleeves, once in a while noticing the 6 deep scars that you once grazed so lightly. a moment of pause creeps into me, every strangers laugh brings out a whisper of your laughter, every drag of a cigarette written a smile i knew. 

i quiet down and let the feelings creeping in once more, in a narrow alley where forgotten murals and stickers speak of lost dreams and jokes, i pause to let the weight of it all settle. the damp walls, much like my soul, are etched with time and grief, a silent reminder of what was and what can never be again.

which could mean nothing.