Night Thoughts

Have you ever woken up, regretting that you ever met me? Because I never did. But I go to sleep every night with thoughts that you may have.n

The other side of the bed is empty and cold. I dare not to touch it, because your scent still lingers like flower on summer day. At night I close my eyes and can feel the faint of your body heat cutting through the night air. Like an amputee feeling an itch where their limbs are missing. Phantom limbs.

Where are you now? Can you still recall me from somewhere I cannot reach? Are you still waking up — if you ever sleep or even awake — calling my name from where no voice can echo? Because I can still hear your voice like a soft music box at the back of my head, but it’s getting further away the more I try to reach it. Is it you talking? Or is it my sanity that starts seeping?

“Remember me when you are happy, remember all the happy thoughts we had so when I’m not here, missing me will bring a smile to your face. Because we are happy,” was what you used to say. But how come I can only feel numbness inside? Were we happy? How did your smile look like? Your hair, what shade of red was it? Were your eyes blue or were they green? All I remember is that you looked like sunshine. My sunshine. My storm. My snow in August.

I open my eyes. The room is dark but I can still see my black suit and shirt hanging from the wardrobe.

Your funeral is tomorrow.