Dear David

Dear David,
To wait for you to come home is to wait an eternity; both my heart and yours know better. You and I, we both deserve so much, but not one another. One day I clasp my fists so firmly and pray for you to crawl back to my embrace, the next I thank the lord you are no longer here to burn my insides to flame. I am sorry if it makes you seem like the bad guy.
It has been ninety-four days. Ninety fucking four.
Ninety-four days knowing that no Morphine but you will ever do. Ninety-four days and not even the fire inside my heart could keep me from shaking. Ninety-four days, my dearest and my beloved, my loveliest most tender lover, without you by my side.
God, I could have sworn that I have not slept for once because your empty side of the bed did not let me be. It was always haunting me that it was not in my power to have a single thought that was not you, or something that I wish I could reveal to you.
I am sorry; for I never told you that ever since, all my sunsets were devoid of color; that the absence of you is not the absence of ache, but the complete opposite.
Still I know, in my heart of hearts that we are not right for each other. That we are not thunder and lightning. That we, my dear David, are two different seasons. We repel.
Do you know what it's like to be the wrong person in the wrong place? Like burning sun in the midst of December, and crashing rain in August. Odd. Very odd. I think we were like that in each other's lives. It was only fair for someone to walk away from the other.
But in the days when I think that all my feelings have dried up, my pen starts writing words of grievance, in the loving memory of our love.
So  David, I beg you to teach me how to forgive you. I beg you to not haunt the rusted corners of my brain at 4 in the morning and keep me glued to my bed for what seems to be forever.
I beg you to teach me how to let go. Because I understand that you have used up all your strength to love me, and I was never easy to love.
Out of all the eulogies I have written for our love, my tears were the sincerest.
Goodbye, my David.
Yours, no longer,
Me.

It is summer. The sky is painted in the clearest shade of blue. Head over heart, I am all calm.
You walk me home every afternoon. Loving you is the only thing I've done right. I am sure. I am sure because you surround me with light. Your scent kissing me, your soul stuck to mine. Even if the heavens were grieving I wouldn't fucking mind.
Warmth, sweat, insanely in love with you. Every feeling in the universe, swiftly poured into me, I cocoon around the entirety of your skin. I am finally home, and nothing shall ever hurt me again.
I watch the light around me dim, ever so quickly in the winter. You slip from my hands, but I hold onto that last thin thread of what could ever be. The skies are bruised and all sounds are wrecked. I am left there as if I will never bloom again, for it feels like I am standing at the heaven's gate with an empty heart; standing at the open hands of god, and still admitting that I have got no home left.
But in the spring I promise to water myself again. I promise to not bathe myself in our sins. I promise to find a place in the sun for all that I've done.
I promise to find me another home, without our memories buried under the bed.