Bedroom

I could not hold the feeling of my heart breaking any longer.

As soon as the door was slammed shut, in a disheveled heap, I collapsed to the floor. Despair coursed through my blood and pain escaped my eyes as a stream of tears.
The lack of intimacy in this bedroom of ours was significant.The only thing that remained, was the torturous silence and the smell of his Perfume that was still stuck in the air, acting as a continuous reminder of him and also of the various times I had sprayed it on my pillow, then held the pillow to my heart aching in his absence.
It brought back to me all those mornings- when we lay beneath the sheets on the queen sized mattress with his head buried in my neck and my fingers in his dark, messy hair- wondering when we both would have the courage to leave the company of the bed and of one another and begin our day.

That fragrance of Davidoff reminded me of the nights when we would be intoxicated not on alcohol, but each other and make love till it was night no longer.

 

A wailing mess, I sat there, as time stood still and I waited until that fragrant mist disappeared into nothingness and took with it all my memories of him.