half of a year.
It feels as if it's been an eternity since I felt his arms around me. Since I've felt him holding me. Since I ran my hand over his back, hitting all the spots that made him melt.
It's been over 6 months since I've heard him say my name, any of them. Since he said he loved me.
Since I've smelt that peculiar mix of scents that made him up to me.
It's been 6 months since I've bought him something to wear. Since I combed his hair, cleaned his face.
It's been six months since I gave him a sip of water, making sure that it went into his mouth.
It's been six months since I told him and knew he heard me that I love him. Since I heard him say in response "I know" a phrase he only started using days before he left me.
It's been six months.
And it's been forever.
How has it been six months? How is it possible that I still breathe? That I imitate life successfully enough that people around me are fooled?
How can I go on?
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