Saturday, 1 December 2012

18/11/12


Even the air smells like you and you’re everywhere in the atmosphere: in the sunlight coming through the trees, in the walk from mine into town, in the warmth of my bedroom, in the empty space in my bed. 
I feel like you belong in them, and you ripped yourself away. Now all that is left is a pressure in my chest that reminds me that you were, such a short time ago, here. 

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