countdown

Ten: I remember what it felt like to walk around the city at night with you by my side, hand in hand and so goddamn happy, my heart so full of the love that I felt like I was going to explode, but in a good way - always in a good way when it came to you.

Nine: I remember what it felt like to hear you whispering those three precious words under the covers, to hear just how much you meant them, how much you wanted to say them, how much you believed me when I said them back.

Eight: I remember what it felt like to love you so carelessly, so desperately, because there was no one else in the world but you and I and that was all that mattered to me, us against the world in a game that we will never lose.

Seven: I remember what it felt like to be revered by you, accepted, by you, adored by your, admired by you, wanted by you, cared for by you - loved by you.

Sis: I remember what it felt like to see an angel with eyes that promised me the world and hands that caressed me so soft and slow, to see the smile on your lips when I tore out my heart and offered it to you because it was the only thing I had to give, even if it wasn't even close to what you deserved.

Five: I can taste tequila on my lips, or maybe it's vodka, but I can also taste you from the last time we kissed, whenever that was.

Four: I can feel sweat covering my body and can feel my hands shaking from the adrenaline, but I can still feel your phantom touches all over my skin, the ones that healed me and the ones that broke me.

Three: I can hear the bass from the music making my ears loud, and someone's screaming in delight at the end and beginning that's coming up fast, but all I can hear is my heart breaking like shattering glass.

Two: I can see smiles everywhere around me, friends dancing like they have no care in the world and couples looking at each other with all the love in the world, but I can see you in every pair of beautiful brown eyes and every dazzling smile.

One: I can smell sweat in the air and something sweet that makes my head spin, but underneath that I can smell the bitter scent of cigarettes that makes memories of you flash through my mind at dizzying speeds.

And yet when the final bell rings and it's all over, I close my eyes and take a deep breath of thick, humid air, letting go of it along with all the memories, all the thoughts, all the hopes and dreams and everything in between. Because to let go isn't to give up: it's to realise that sometimes you have to fight for yourself when no one else will.

Zero: and it's all gone.

Author's Note

*an old poem from over a year ago, not my finest work but effort is effort amiright