Empty house

Rainy atmospheres were all I used to wait three days before now. There’s a peaceful outcome in such vibes to such a curious person. I loved to hear what was louder than my thoughts. I couldn’t and wouldn’t stop myself from dropping words because I was certain there were many wrong things to discuss. I prepared my speech, and two cups of tea. A candlelight to peeve the cold view, and a clock waiting the door to welcome expected knocks. A warm brownish sweater, and three sugar cubes on a decorated dish. A doorstep was eagerly ready to scrub your shoes. A ponytail was hardly maintaining its good look. A flower imagined your luxurious smell. A dinner table begged me to cook dinner.

We knew that people might die at any sudden coincidence. When those vibes that I waited for so long killed a person whom I waited forever. Last year, last dinner and last actual conversation when you were right and I was overreacting. Destiny took you away before my spoken apologies healed your or my heart. Now tell me what would heal and how would you hear?

Prideful intentions blew my consciousness. You know it’s not often about consciousness, we want a better car but without having enough money to afford it. We don’t understand values, not even our own one. We have a strange thing to rely on and the only way to break it down is losing what we couldn’t think of losing when we were upset or not satisfied. You died in your way back home, but it might not have been your decent home anymore. You’re somewhere either happy or scared, but I will never be happy or scared. I will never know how to be or what I am. I will never feel again.

I still don’t send apologies to any. I only apologize to the wallpaper of your room, to the sculpture you brought on your first trip to Paris, to your favorite restaurant, to our dinner table and to our previous conversations. For things that mainly don’t hear me, exactly like you. I didn’t learn a thing from your death and warm condolences wouldn’t wake my consciousness up.

And now, three days afterwards I realized how foolish people became, and how I couldn’t blame anything but myself for waiting you. Tea cups are still on the same table, soulfully blackish, sending me vibes of pity. May your soul visit only in my happy days, to remind me of how sadness conquered your love to me, on how tiny problems could block my view, on how death took you before taking a permission from any part of me. May your soul teach me how to care, how to see the universe differently, how to make my loved ones a priority, how to free my apology.

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