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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/899639
Rated: E · Monologue · Experience · #899639
Still picking up the pieces
The sun rose once more, just as it had yesterday and the day before.

The space in my heart is still there. Still.

When the phone rings, I don't think it is going to be her calling anymore.

I never expect to see her around town.

Sometimes I forget exactly what she looks like, and her image feels less etched into my heart.

But then I'll dream about her- a night dream, a daydream. I remember everything.

A song comes on the radio. She would've liked that song. If she was sitting there- she'd turn the volume up.

Change it to talk radio. Music is too dangerous.

Stop at the store, pick up a few things.

How can you get sentimental about shopping? Watch the couples talk to each other, walking around together.

Head back home. No one is waiting there anymore, just empty space. It mocks me.

It's getting late. Wonder what's on the TV?

That movie we saw together. I mean- the movie I saw with her.

There is no "we" anymore.

Put it on sports. She never did like ESPN.

Barry Bonds never judged me.

The sun has gone down. Time to go to sleep.

The space in the bed is still there. The space in my heart is still there. Even when the bed has been full- my heart still feels empty.

I finally fall asleep.

Is that the sun? Better get a move on....
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/899639