You’re Leaving.

I could taste it on your lips each time you kissed me good morning the past six weeks.

That taste. I know it so well.

It’s a perfect blend of loneliness, sorrow and dashed hopes.

I’ve tasted it so many times, it’s now so familiar. Like an old friend that comes to visit once in a while.

You carried that taste and you didn’t even know.

I could see it on your troubled face as you slept next to me; even in your sleep I felt you traveling miles away, away from me.

I could feel you leaving even as you held me tight to stop me from crying.

You couldn’t understand why I was crying but I knew why.

“You’re leaving”, I said to you.

You reassured me that you weren’t. You said you would stay.

You tried to convince me that you loved me; that my name was the only taste on your lips and my love, the only fire that engulfed your soul.

That you’d be here forever.

But I knew better.

I mourned your departure even before you left; my weary heart healed even before you broke it.

So this morning, when I found a goodbye note on the pillow where your head should have been,…

I felt nothing.

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