And I placed all of those memories up on that pedestal. And that is where they’ve stayed, since you walked away. I am not one to beg, but I have begged holes straight into the knees of my jeans, as if I didn’t know any better. And each day hasn’t made a damned difference.
And it’s been a year, right down to the day. Your side of the bed still, untouched, just as the thought of you still crumbs my side. Your scent left, shortly after you. Another deserter. And all that’s left, that pedestal I trip over, with every new face that appears.
You’re getting too heavy for me to carry. It’s too much with my own weight. And I’ll lose myself, if I don’t lose you.
In time, I will cut your pedestal down. In time, I’ll be ready. But until then, I’ll be the one to fade.