We hadn’t spoken very much, recently. I kept missing your calls, although the time I picked up there was no one at the other end. It was like you vanished completely that not even your dog knew where you were. I had to feed him amounts of food that depleted my life’s savings. He’ll never be the same.
I wandered about your flat for several days. Every room had a photograph of us in it, the likes of which sent me miles back into memory. The first moment I remembered, which is to say the one that still plagues the heart, is of our last kiss. I held your bottom lip between a smile before saying, “I love you”. That’s where it ended.
I slept in your bed, turning with every nightmare of your absence. We would never have time together under the mistletoe. Every winter we’d walk into town and buy the most colorful ornament for our Christmas tree. It was a tradition that was carried from our childhoods’, although we made them instead. Your’s always had the most curious of shapes. Like a cloud it transformed from small to big to being a rectangle to being a horse. Mine were that much boring compared to yours.
I don’t know where you’ve gone to but I hope you’ll come back soon. In the meantime I’ve taken the liberty of keeping Lord Byron. He’ll never survive on his own.