You were undecided

Between life and past tense

You lost your battle, life was hell

But I was always beside, how can't you tell?

Oh, I thought we'd be together 'til life was over

But you left too soon, now I'm no longer sober

Two months. Two months since he buried you. Two months since he found you in the bathroom In a pool of blood, already gone when he arrived. Two months since he lost his soulmate. It’s still so fresh in his head.

Alex was not a sentimental man, but he always made sure you felt loved. Always made sure you were cared for in every way he could.

And yet, he failed.

He failed you.

Perhaps he should have noticed sooner. Taken you in when you relapsed. But he swore you’d get better. But you didn’t . And now you were gone.

Alex didn’t get out of bed when the alarm rung for its seventh time today. He kept saying he’d get up, but there was no point. He was hungover, and far too sober. Groaning, he finally sat up, slung his legs off the bed, and got up. He looked at your photo one the bedside, and perhaps he should take it off, but he couldn’t. He had your wedding band on a necklace, quiet as he trudged from the room. He should move, really. The house still smelled like you, still felt like yours. But he couldn’t bare to leave it, not when he bought it for you after the wedding.

He grabbed a can of beer and palmed at his eyes. He should eat. But he didn’t want to. So instead he opened the can and downed half of it. Still too sober. He groaned and stumbled, bracing himself on the wall. His eyes caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Ragged, tired, missing his soulmate. He snarled and punched the mirror, breaking it. Promptly after, he panicked because you had picked out that mirror.

“Damn it, damn it- why, Keller?” He hissed, setting the beer down and trying to fix the mirror.

–––

Walking to the graveyard was routine. His tired, drunk body moved out of instinct as he turned into the little cemetery. Hequietly sat down at your headstone on the wet earth. “Hey, sweetheart.”