When she's gone
Aint no sunshine when she's goneOnly darkness every day
He misses her. He misses part of his soul. Only an aching void replaces that which used to be the warmth of her love and care. He feels no guilt for his actions, he feels no shame. He only feels the destructive force of yearning, and it tears at his heart, tears at his mind. She had said that he'd killed her spirit; he'd reduced her to tears and self-loathing. She couldn't stand to live with herself because of what he'd made her become. She'd become weak and starved of happiness.
He hadn't noticed.
He still couldn't see what he'd done to hurt her, or what he had ever done wrong. In his mind, everything had been perfect. He had been ignorant of her anguish, her internal suffering. She had done wrong in his eyes; she had wandered astray from the happy life that he had offered. Who was she to walk away? Who was she to think that it was done; everything finished and in the past. Why couldn't she realise that she was his, forever into eternity, into endless infinity. She had been blind to the extent of his love, but he had shown her. He had saved her. Saved her from herself. Now though, she would never know, unless of course, she did know, wherever she was now.
Aint no sunshine when she's gone
And she's always gone too long
Anytime she goes away
The thoughts tumble over and over in his mind. Where had she gone to this time? She had gone countless times before, but this time was different. He knew it was different. She'd really gone this time. He sits in his flat, counting the days go by. The same routine, day in, day out, watching the clock go by. His life is reduced to this now, reduced to thinking about her endlessly. He can still feel her soft hair between his fingers; breathe the disarming smell of her perfume and her woman's scent when he'd made love to her. When he eats, he doesn't taste the food that he's eating. His taste buds have frozen, forever capturing the taste of her lips, the inside of her mouth from their last kisses. He still sees her now, lying in front of him.
The thunder had stayed for four days now. The four days since she had left him, left his life forever. The sunshine had gone and he doesn't believe it will come back, not into his life anyway. He hasn't been able to consider anything except her since then. She has always been at the forefront of his mind. The phone has been left to ring, the doorbell has been unanswered. He has lost track of the time. He can still see her lying in front of him. He can still smell her perfume.
Wondering this time where she's gone
Wondering if she's going to stay
Aint no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just aint no home
Anytime she goes away
Her soul may have left him, but her body would always belong to him. He knew this. She belonged to him, infinitely. He hadn't quite convinced her to stay with him, but this didn't matter. She had stayed anyway. He can still see her lying in front of him. He can't smell her perfume anymore.
He stands up and reaches for her bottle of French perfume. He sprays a couple of times, enabling the heavenly scent to fall over him, to relieve him of the dry, decaying smell. He can smell her perfume. He can still see her lying in front of him. Once again he is content to think of her, he remembers her in glorious fashion. He remembers everything about her.
Everything.
He remembers calmly holding her to the floor and strangling her.
He remembers the pleading look she gave him, the empty promise she gave that she would stay with him if he'd let her go. He remembers seeing through this life and having only one option. One option to savour his moment. His moment when realisation struck that he'd never have to lose her again. She could always belong to him and no other man.
He'd be with her again one day. He could wait for the sunshine until then.
Until then, he can still see her lying in front of him; he can still smell her perfume.