Letterbox

I peek inside my letterbox everyday, even on a weekend and hope I’ll find a letter from you.

You’re gone, I know that.

You aren’t coming back, I know that.

At first it’s like you never existed but all I have to do is scratch the surface and it’s all there. We are there, that time.

The good times were good and the bad times were bad. Ups and downs like a rocky sea on a stormy night.

I can’t forget your smell and the comfort it gave me but I also can’t forget how I felt like I was fading the longer I was with you. Was that your fault? I don’t know, probably not.

Now I’m free and floating without a tether. I’m free but am I in control?

A glimpse of a face in the crowd, a profile with no face. Is it you? Do I want it to be you? What if it is? Then what? Nothing.

Another ghost, another day.

Who is poking around on my balcony under the light of the moon?

When I open the door, is that your cooking I smell?

You know I still put the ear plugs in at night? I tell people it’s because I sleep better but to be honest it’s because I sometimes still hear your snoring even though you aren’t there. I had the worst sleep while we were together. Now I sleep like the dead and I don’t know myself.

Sometimes I can talk about you and sometimes I can’t without crying but that’s life. It couldn’t have been any other way.

I peek inside the letterbox and I know there is nothing in there but I unlock it and check anyway. Maybe tomorrow.

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