Life. Never to be the same again.
The last day of the week didn’t get off to a good start.
My alarm went off. I showed you my painting I thought it was red and you told me it was green.
You took me for a walk to your hills where I planted my flag. The wind was lacking but I could still feel a bite on my face. A tear. Your footsteps in the snow will be gone tomorrow.
Back home you sat by the crackling fire and sang the saddest song. I cried; became afraid of my actions and words or lack thereof.
Would it even matter if I disappeared into thin air? A faint trace of your smell left on my hands from the night before. You have gone now.
Emptiness. A new hole. The pain is back. Does it never cease? In my dreams I walked to your hills but they looked like different hills and my flag was gone. There sky was clear but there was no moon. The ground was wet. My face was dry. Something forgotten returned from the mist like a wisp in a woods. An old ghost drifting through the trees; weaving a path through the thickets. It was my worst enemy. A mirror. A chasm. Just darkness. My safe place.