Hurts Doesn't it?

Are you out there?

I woke up today, my mind only just processing what's around me, and I forgot you weren't here.

I called your name, no answer. I thought you were sleeping. Went upstairs and checked your room and then I remembered. Crashed to the floor like the building had collapsed onto me.

I've never felt so alone.

Why does my mind continue to forget and replace facts, why play tricks on me? What did I ever do to deserve this?

Your rooms as you left it, bed folded neatly at the corners, tight and military. You were always the soldier. You met me as a soldier. You left me as a soldier. When you return I look forward to my soldier.

I went out today, I was kinda forced to. The flats kinda closing in around me and people started to notice. But I'll never leave. This is our home.

I got coffee from a store and I forgot you weren't here, I bought two, one milky, one black for me. No sugar like you always have it. I do remember that.

Went to your grave, left the coffee there, I hope it didn't go cold. I'm holding on hope but I don't know why.

I got home and there was a parcel in your chair, tied up with string, carefully wrapped in brown paper.

Could be a bomb, could be harmless, what is there to lose. I picked it up and sat down in your chair, still smells like you, even your aftershave.

I unwrapped it and there was your oatmeal jumper. There was a note attached, "heard you were cold".

If it was from you. You were right you know, it is cold but mostly metaphorically besides the march air. My hearts cold, feels like it lost the only warm thing it had. It did you know. A part of me died when you did.

I held your jumper close. This was my favorite, you know? This was always the favorite. It's warm and smells like you. It smells like Bakewell tart and battenburg. Like almonds and jam. You loved jam. I remember that.

I fell asleep in your chair, your jumper held close to my still beating heart. Is it weird to say I imagined it was you. That put me to sleep for the first time properly since it happened.

I woke and the stars were out again, it's a nice thing in London, it's usually too polluted in the air. Too much light pollution and the stars don't shine, but since you left I never miss it when they do.

Star 23: your eyes, glistening like galaxies. Blue, green, sometimes brown, and they're so caring and loving and I see the admiration you had for me when I made a deduction. I can still see it now and I remember that.

Well then John, I'll guess I'll see you soon, Thankyou for the jumper, I won't think it's a stranger breaking in the flat, there was no sign of forced entry, but the only keys to this door belong to you, me and Hudders. I'll continue believing it's you until someone proves me wrong.