City Lights
“Baby I’m sorry…” crooned the singer on the radio before the taxi driver switched stations.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t want to listen to any songs pertaining to love, regardless if the singer was taken back by her lover.
The city looked so beautiful at night. All the bright lights, mocking me with their electric gleam. She was beautiful and evil at the same time.
I shut my eyes and breathed again. The tears were starting to sting my eyes. The familiar pain of holding back tears was attacking me. The last time I saw these lights, we were basking under them while we were screaming about how we wished we never knew each other.
I can’t think straight. You’re still the one responsible for my own distractions.
The taxi reached the building in no time. It was one of those rare moments when I wished that traffic was painfully heavy. I don’t care if my fare reached hundreds— I just don’t want to be home yet.
The lobby was empty. The hallways are empty. The elevator is, no surprise, empty.
Familiar ghosts whispering to me, showing me images from the days we can’t get back.
“I’m home…” I said to no one in particular. No sleepy-eyed boy welcomed me. No hugs. No kisses. Just tears that were too stubborn to stay inside my eyes.
I looked at the bed and touched the space where you used to sleep. Cold. Just like how my words were during our last conversation.
No more fights. No more bruises on our egos. No more kicking and screaming. My heart is now as empty as this place we used to call our “home”.
I laid on the bed and clung onto a pillow. Your scent still lingers. I clung onto it harder and started to cry myself to sleep.