Sometimes
Sometimes.
Sometimes I lose myself trying to hear the beautiful, wonderful, terrible tunes of your violin. It never comes, but I listen anyway.
Sometimes I listen to the silence you once filled with mutterings and curses and complaints. To the sound, the frightening, oh so frightening sound of what-could-have-beens buzzing around my head like a thousand sorrowful bees. To the sound of the never-weres. I listen, and sometimes the tears come. They come in silent, ugly gasps and chokes. Sometimes they don't and I just blink and wonder what I am doing away from you. Why you aren't here. Why.
Sometimes I take my mobile and flick through the texts you sent me when you lived. The offhand, throwaway comments that suddenly mean so much, that I suddenly hold onto like it was the only thing I have left that is real in this world of nightmares. And it is, in a way. My last reminders of what you were. What we were.
Sometimes I think about the time we shared. That I took for granted. Chasing criminals, laughing together, having arguments. If I knew, if I could go back to when everything was right, I would savour those stupid, crazy, incredible moments. I would take you into my arms and tell you everything. I would tell you that nothing ever could be as important. I would kiss you, cry into you, laugh into you, and then, then, maybe I could move on. Oh, if only I could go back.
Sometimes, I pace about my - no, no. Our flat. Touch your things. Your skull, the mirror. Your microscope. Silly, unimportant things that mean everything. Sometimes, I stain them with the tears that come again.
Sometimes, I picture you pacing about the worn floorboards, making a mess trying to find things. Insignificant things that I would go out of my way to find for you. You sit in your armchair (I haven't moved it. It still there) and have conversations with me. We laugh, and I tell you things. I can't tell you what because I don't hear them. Sometimes, I want to believe you're there. But I know you're not, and you never will be.
And sometimes, I think it's time to let go.