It’s dark. Which I guess makes sense because you’re sleeping.
Honestly?
I’m not sure.
I can only see the traces of your nose from the moonlight. Your nose is all I need to see though. It’s definitely all yours, no way to confuse you and him as far as nose comparisons. Or maybe I just didn’t notice his anymore, I was so used to it.
So I shut my eyes.
The quiet music playing reminds me of winter. Not last winter, though. It must be the winter right before, then. The memories are so fresh. That’s how I have to think of that winter. Fresh, crisp, bright, cold, clear, beautiful.
What was I doing that winter?
Oh, yeah.
I was with him. This was the winter when all of the fighting started, when we used to listen to all of these songs as you lay in apathetic silence and I would quietly, painfully wish that you loved me.
The songs almost hurt to hear, it’s just so vivid.
Listening to the songs, with my eyes shut, laying next to you, it reminds me of laying next to him.
I open my eyes.
No, your nose is all wrong, and we’re sleeping on opposite sides of the bed than I did with him.
But if I shut my eyes, and don’t look at your nose, and try to imagine that the wall is behind me instead of you, I can almost believe that you’re him and that I’m laying here in exquisite pain.