Sometimes, I sit in the dark.
Sometimes, I curl up in his chair.
I close my eyes and search for the memory.
I search for a time when I felt safe.
The blanket on his chair is wet with my tears.
I rock myself.
I talk to him.
I’m sorry for not living up to his expectations.
I’m sorry for a future of falling in love with someone else.
I’m sorry for dreaming.
I’m sorry for the adventures I’ll have without him.
I feel guilty.
Guilty for thinking of boys.
Guilty for still having his remains.
Guilty for overspending.
Guilty for not feeling like a real person yet.
And I know what he would say.
He would say that he loves me.
He would say that I’m beautiful.
He would say he is proud.
And sometimes I sit in the dark.
And sometimes I rock myself in his chair.
And sometimes I wait for the quiet.
When the pain goes away.
Sometimes I sit in the dark.