There were these voices in my head,
Which I have lived with for years,
They told me things that I didn’t always want to hear,
but needed to hear before I went to bed at night.
They were familiar, and a part of me.
We had conversations in my head about the people around me,
about my dreams and hopes for the future.
One day, they told me things about you.
They made me noticed you when you first entered the diner, They said, “Look, there they are. Quick, act casual.”
So I did, I acted casual, only to forget that acting casual didn’t mean sipping on my drink quickly, and almost choked.
“That didn’t seem casual at all.”, they said.
I shut them out, and talked to you for the very first time.
56 days after that, the voices in my head woke me up,
They told me that I was in love,
That I should grab my phone right now at 2.20AM,
to call you, and tell you how I feel.
So, I did. You told me that you felt the same too.
That night, I went back to sleep with the voices in my head,
Telling me that they were leaving, it’s time for me to be happy.
The voices in my head were gone.
They were replaced by your voice.
Your constant words of comfort,
Your voice that sung me to sleep.
Your voice, telling me about your dreams and hopes for the future,
Your jokes, in my head, that put a smile across my face at work.
109 days after that, you woke me up from a nap.
You told me this wasn’t working out for you.
You didn’t sign up for my emotional baggage,
You wanted out, you couldn’t see us having a future.
“But what about that tree house that we will build together?” I asked.
“You can build that yourself now. I am leaving.” you said.
It was quiet, after you left. It was quiet for some time.
I could hear my own heartbeat against my chest, while I took deep breaths.
Faint smell of cigarettes and fresh laundry entered through my nostrils,
And the scent of your body wash lingered in that room.
Everything still smelt the same. The sheets were still warm and messed up.
“Maybe this is just a bad dream that I am having.”, I tried telling the voices that weren’t there. I closed my eyes, resumed my nap.
The voices came back, 347 days after you left,
when I came across a book you gave me for my birthday,
But they aren’t the voices that I used to hear.
These voices that I hear now are yours.
Haunting me with the things that you’ve whispered to me when the lights were out,
Your voice, telling me jokes that no longer put a smile on my face,
Your voice, reminding me of your dreams and hopes that no longer involve me.
Your voice, like a broken record,
repeating everything that you have ever said to me before you left.