She Said by Genefe Navilon
“I remember nights when security was my blanket and your love was the bed I laid in and I had you.
Now my nights are cold and bare and I am shivering from the emptiness you left me in and god, it is even painful to fall asleep.
I remember 4 AM’s when the world was baked in grey, slow and lazy and my eyes opened to the sight of you, wonderfully mine and beautiful.
Now my dawns are a blast of frigid air and I am left freezing as I realize you are no longer there and will never be anymore and god, it is even painful to wake up.
I remember mornings when we shared coffee on my porch, unhurried and languid as we shared secret smiles and burning looks.
Now my breakfast means sitting on the counter, forcing myself to take a bite as I try to get rid of the acrid taste of losing you from my tongue and dammit, it is even painful to breathe.
I remember coming home at 5 PM’s and seeing your shoes in the hallway, my fingers lightly touching your coat on the hanger, happy you’re there.
Now I usually just stand outside the door for some time, afraid to face the fact that not only my house is empty but my life is as well and baby I fucking miss you so.
I remember every little thing and it’s a blessing and a curse because it is proof that I was once happy and now everything is gone and god, it is so damn painful to live.”
Response Piece by Sade Andria Zabala
I remember days when sadness was my morning coffee, and your leaving was the drug I held onto, and all I had was myself.
Now my days are warm and buzzing, and I am running heart-first into the ocean and god, it is so good to wake up.
I remember 4 PM’s when the sky was black and white, and I’d close my eyes to the grey space you left on my bed, aching and lonely beside me.
Now my dusks are a blast of frigid air, and I am left breathless as I break free from the shadow of your existence. My self-pity will never be anymore and god, it is so good to fall asleep.
I remember nights when we shared silence across the kitchen table, tense and hasty as we avoid exchanging names we once promised never to call the other.
Now my dinner means enjoying wine with a good book, as I wash the taste of loving you with laughter on my tongue.
I remember you coming home at 5 AM’s and seeing your shoes in our hallway, stained with the mud of all the places you lived without me, my fingers greedily calling out to you, even though you weren’t really there.
Now I usually stay outside with friends, nervous the boy with the blonde hair will see those ugly green bedsheets if I take him home, and baby I still fucking love you, but I no longer miss you.
I remember every little thing, and this is both good news and bad news because it is proof that I am human, and it is proof that I fuck up, and once I thought you were someone I couldn’t live without, but now you’re gone and god,
it is so damn good to be alive.