You left, but I'm left here...
4:51 p.m.

I haven't seen you in years. I wish I knew why you left. Why you wanted to go. I miss you. You mean so much to me, and I didn't get to say goodbye. I think you've left something empty inside of me, something I can't fill myself.

Sometimes, I turn the radio up real loud, and turn the lights off. I stand - arms spread out wide, like a crucifix, head back. Welcoming the rythms into my being. I lick the salt off my cheeks and collapse to the ground, face to the carpet, arms hugging my elbows to me. My head's against the speaker and I lie here in the dark washing away everything, letting the music into my body. Mind closed, ears open. Welcoming every note. Salty water dripping over my face, wetting my temples. Salt stinging the fresh wounds. The tears wash away my thoughts as I let in every beat, every single solitary sound.

I just thought you'd like to know. Even though you're not here.

Even though you're dead.

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