this morning #2185.

this morning, the empty space that lay beneath the sheets had recently decreased. didn’t seem as vast as it once had. as solemn. the instinct to reach his hand over there & longingly rub the bare space hadn’t entirely faded away but for now it’d fled from his brain. today makes six months, a week & two days from the last time that space had been occupied. in that span of time, his state of mind’s fluctuated between disbelief, grief, regret, shame & a million other complex emotions. some rational. mostly not. he knew he just had to live through the loss until he arrived at a spot where the absence felt natural enough. a half a year later, here he was. he’d woken up alone but with less of a sense of sorrow.