Warm wind’s blowing. Loud silence’s piercing. With blank mind and an about-to-burst heart, I remained still as I look at your grave.
Our story ended, more than five years ago. On that fateful autumn day, when I waited for you. But you never waited for me.
I admit I am in denial, for five years. I never visited that bench, I never stepped my feet on that park, not until… I almost died.
And you came to fetch me, or my soul, or whatever I am during that moment.
I almost said yes.
Yes, I want to die right then and there with you. I want to be with you. I want to feel your lips again. I want to badly feel your love again.
With broken ribs, fractured arm, and almost cracked skull, who would know I will not die? It’s a miracle, some said. But for me, my miracle happened six months after I was back to life.
It happened when I cannot move. It happened when I can’t even eat. It happened when I can’t even do anything. It happened when I realized that this is how it feels to die. It happened when I realized that I want to live again even without you.
Live as in live, not live like a breathing zombie that I was for so many years.
I still miss you, my love. I still want to be with you. But I guess… it’s now time… for me… to breathe again.
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer