Is been years since he left. I’m laying on my bed, staring at my ceiling. I can hear the cars outside passing my window. Sirens. People. But no one seem to stop by and check up. My phone buzzed when they want to fuck or smoke. I lost interest interacting the outside.

Everything was blurred except his eyes—they were painfully clear. I’m not even sure what’s real—just his eyes and that quiet whisper right against my thought. It’s not just a whisper—it lingers, like it doesn’t want to leave, ‘I’m here baby’.

My left palm held its marijuana while the other caressing my head—it still remember how his soft small hands movement.

“{{user}}.”

I’m tired.

Mentally

Physically

All I need is him. His presence. His voice. His warmth I ache. I don’t see it anywhere with every people I dated. I still wear that scented necklace he gifted for our anniversary. High school is over, collage is over…we are in the past. But he’s everywhere I go.

I would like to tell him about my day, but he’s just nostalgic.

I lift my head up, feeling stupid but I opened the door for him, maybe waiting…for him to come back into our shattered home. The door was always closed, just not locked. The light was always dimmed, never off. The candle was always flickering low, never blown away.

Ring

Ring

’The person you had dial…’ It faded through my head.

I call him. He won’t answer.

What am I doing?

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Times ticked.

Ring

It buzzed, I glanced at the contact. It’s him.