Morning where i am evening where you are
I can hear your voice through the letters on my screen. I imagine your hands cold like they've never been when you were here. The air hangs heavy with cigarette smoke, like it always did when you and I would spend long afternoons here. I still have you written inside me somewhere, the slope of your cheek remains in the crevices of my palm lines. Remembering, always remembering. Things that can not be erased. Feelings that can not be unlearned. Things that can not be undone. Like the unmistakable hollow silence inside me that grows deeper with every day that passes.
I need a stiff drink right about now.
God help me.