another night for another wake.

presenceYou killed yourself with drugs. It was a peaceful death, at least to you. It had been around 300 nights since the last time I touched you. I wish you could talk to me.

Each midnight, I would wait for the 3 am hour—my favorite; my only time to feel you.

I laid on my bed, leaving a space beside me. The clock flashed the time—2:58 am. I closed my eyes. The winds slipped through the open window. The bedsheets curved. The free space of the mattress sagged. The urge to open my eyes intensified.

You were here.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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