Monday evening. I’m walking through a dead village. The wind creates scary noises in the black foliage above me, the rain on the asphalt reflects the street lights. It’s cold, my hand is cold and with no distraction around me I can’t help but notice the void you’ve left.
The sky above me is pitch-black, there is no moon I can look at that would soothe my heart. My hand feels cold and I suspiciously turn around because of every step that disrupts the nocturnal silence. I’m alone, the feeling of safety you gave me is gone and only now I realise that it was there all the time.
Out in the night, there’s no screen with Photoshop or Facebook to distract me. No music I can listen to, no kids to take care of or people to talk to, no photo shoots to organise. It’s just me and the deserted streets and the silence grows loud, even the void next to me seems to have a sound. It’s not a pleasant one.
We didn’t talk all the time, but even just having you beside me, silently walking together, fingers in those old gloves intertwined, had its own melody – a song my only perceived by my heart.
We grew together and I hate the circumstances for tearing us apart again and again just to bring us closer the next time before it’s time to say goodbye again. It doesn’t hurt more the better we know each other – but the anger is growing. Because I get to feel how it is to live with you, be with you day in, day out, just to have it taken from me again.
I don’t know how to deal with the silence you leave. I try to avoid it by keeping myself busy, too busy to feel sad or lonely, but during those minutes away from distractions, the silence grows loud and triggers my thoughts.
You are dearly missed and I wished there was some way to shorten the time of the long-distance part of our relationship. But only patience can help.