Part I
I wake up. I can hear you by my side. Though I don't see you, I can watch you turn around to kiss me in the cheek. I can feel your breath in my ear. "Come", you whisper, and that makes me feel chills down my neck. The warm air of your mouth hits mine, my tongue heavy with longing. But I won't kiss you. I want to hold on to that feeling a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer…
The memory of you still makes me tremble; it feels so real that, when I open my eyes and the whole scene fades away, I have to think hard to remember that you're not here anymore.
The smell of coffee in the morning cannot cover the scent of you in the house. You left it along with your music, your clothes, and the lipstick we used to share. Everything is still there, unmoved, as a sort of sanctuary. Maybe, as if waiting for you to come back.
"Spence", your sweet voice calls me from my back and I know you're there standing, smiling. That kind of smile that would always wrap me when I was cold, making me feel just better. "I love you", you say, holding me from my back. The seconds we spend like that, seem like hours, conscious, once again, of how lucky we are. I sip my coffee and slowly turn around, hoping this time you're truly there. But then you vanish again.
As I get dressed, I try hard to forget about the emptiness you left in the house. I take my jacket and leave, saying goodbye to the walls.
Part II
I come back from work to an old scene. I would have never expected smell the dinner. When we moved together, you promised you would make dinner for me, but you never did. You were always busy, or forgot. But I didn't care. I loved to cook with you, you could always make me laugh, joking about every new thing we discovered together.
Then, in the living room, you used to hold me and say you would teach me how to dance. "I already know how to dance!", I said to you, laughing. "But I'm going to teach you how to dance with me". Yet, we never had a whole lesson. We always ended up in the couch, kissing, whispering, feeling each other's skins, the pleasure of being one for another.
The last time we talked you were rushing out of the door. "We'll talk about that later", you said. But then again, we never talked anymore. I picked up the telephone and listened still, unable to move for an hour. Flashes and pictures, moving around me, then leaving. All that I could do was to feel sorry for all the times I said "I hate you" and meant it. And every time you said you hated me, I want to think… I really want to believe you never meant it.
And here I lay again, in bed. I close my eyes and I see you, and tell you all this. How you came, how you left. All the things you left undone. But I don't mean to harass you. I can't even start to blame you, for the only promise that you were able to keep: that you would be with me the rest of your life, and stay in me forever, to make all the days of mine so…
…so amazing.