i have a mark for every time your absence came to visit.

the first time i walked into the kitchen and did not see your face, it hit my eyes; they have never bled so much. when the pain hit, it marked my ribs; they have never ached in this way before. when the silence is too quiet it marked my ears; they have never felt so numb. the first time i stepped into a supermarket with the weight of what i knew and brought some headache pills, that one marked my temples. when i woke the first time, when the very first time i told myself you were dead marked the depths of my soul. a month ago i marked my stomach muscles by touching the sleeve of your favourite shirt. yesterday my heart was marked by the stranger on the train who spoke of your name.

i am at the bottom of the garden; its cold like autumn has came to visit for tea. and i am beginning to realise that my marks are nothing but bruises. eventually they will fade like the memory of your soul. i wish we never forgot minuets or seconds, they are the only thing that captures me nowadays.

- always always R.