You hurt me like an old wound, and you do not heal. You are still in me… I forget you. And then I repeat to myself in my mind our last good day. I usually look for you before I go to bed. I cannot find you. The weather is silent. The night grabs me---dark and another, in which only the memory is bitter. Days and months pass, years slide, your voice echoes in the silence. It is unlikely that this pain will pass. Or maybe I don't want to leave it... How I want to wake up one day, ---no memories of anything, no guilt, to erase you and to lose you in the last embrace of sleep.
