Getting Over You · scars

scars.

the pillow next to me is dry

but it still smells like you.

i can’t bring myself to change the pillowcase on it

i think it helps me sleep at night

that stuffed animal you won for me at the arcade

lays in my arms

it’s torn and dirty

i haven’t slept without it since you’ve been gone.

the sheets on my side are tangled

your side is still exactly as you left it

aside from a few tear stains i’ve added over time.

on my nightstand is a photo of us

from the time you were teaching me how to longboard in the sears parking lot

at 10 PM

we laughed so much that night

i begged you to take a picture, we didn’t have many together

we were too in love to remember to document our adventures

too focused on each other to pay attention to our phones

so you did

all you said was that you looked terrible

and i was so photogenic,

that i looked beautiful.

we stayed late

i don’t think either of us wanted the night to end.

i stare at that photo every night before i go to bed

it reminds me of when the world was right

it takes me back to when i was happy

i don’t think i’ve been happy for a year now,

ever since you left.

you did it for me,

you said.

what you didn’t understand

is that when you walked away

the only stability my life had

was torn away

the roses that used to sit by the picture frame

have been replaced by pills

the bracelet that you bought me

isn’t on my wrist anymore

scars live in its place

from the bad nights,

the nights i didn’t think life was worth living

without you.

but the scars serve as my reminder

that you were not my only hope

and i’m not over you yet

but maybe someday

i will be.

m.s.

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