I wait for him, long and desperately I wait for him.
The pleasantness of nostalgia is short-lived before the warm reminiscence deforms into a sinister longing. A painfully distant past which boasts in its bliss and inaccessibility.
The days are lengthy and hard. They accumulate and I carry them on my soul like luggage on my back, growing more and more burdensome as each day passes.
He has forgotten me, and all we shared; I am omitted from his memory and desires, cast away into a sea of forgetfulness the way a butterfly leaves the old after shedding its cocoon.
One will stay up and gaze vehemently at a beautiful star, and admire its glory but for one night, before neglecting it and admiring another the next night.
I am that once brilliant star who died out; whose light faded into bleak nothingness. No longer possessing importance or the slightest iota of significance to him.
His words once set alight to my heart, his smile brought hue to my gloomy existence, his touch, a remedy to my stricken soul. I remember the way in which his scent would waltz around my nasal whenever I had the satisfaction of being within his tender grip.
I remember the enchanting glare in his eyes and the mesmerising tone in his voice that day when he held me and told me I’d always be his, forever and always.
His words sunk so deeply into a clouded cavern embedded somewhere in the depths of my being, and filled a void which so longed to be filled. I clasped these words and fastened them to my heart. They were engraved profoundly in my mind.
I offered myself so entirely to him, and he discarded me like a sweet wrapper after you’ve enjoyed the internal goodness.