4am is the new middle of the night. When something keeps you awake at night it will probably be 4am by the time you realise something’s keeping you awake. By the time you realise that dawn is soon approaching and you haven’t slept a wink, you will begin to question why. That’s when this starts.
It’s 4:20am. I am thinking of her hands. I am thinking of beauty that belonged only to her. Beauty I had not seen before or since she went away.
Tonight I am unable to sleep because each time I close my eyes I see the arch of her neck and it makes my tongue go thick and dry with thirst. I am awake because I haven’t seen her eyes light up when they catch sight of me. I may never see that again.
I try to shut it out. Close the images. Delete the messages. Distract my monkey mind and avoid thinking about things that do not stay. Like love. Like peace. Like her smile. Like her smile that came and went so easily.
And I remember the last sight I had of her. I’m not one who looks back. I turn around and walk away and I don’t look back. But that last time I did look back because I wanted every glimpse. I did not want to lose any part of the little time we shared. I am glad I looked back that last time. I am glad because it was the last time.
Soon it will be morning. That night never left my bones. I carry the loss for yet another twenty-four hours and get better and better at pretending everything’s okay. That is where loss goes to hide, you know. Inside your bones. In the hollows. It never leaves you. People leave. But their absence does not. I cannot believe there is any burden that is heavier to bear than that of all you choose to leave behind. And all that chooses to leave you.