Sometimes I Sit in the Dark

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.

I cry.

The blanket on his chair is wet with my tears.

I rock myself.

I talk to him.

I apologize.

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.

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