Tvätt Dag (Laundry Day)
Tvätt Dag (Laundry Day)
He left on Sunday.
Laundry Day.
Somewhere in between my sedated state
and the first traces of morning,
he had collected his things
and gone.
It had been planned for some time.
His departure.
I thought I would be okay,
because he was going home
and I didn’t care
that much.
Still, I laid in bed all day,
enveloped in the dingy white
of my well-worn bedding.
I glanced around the room
hoping to find some remainder
he left behind.
Even the glass of water
he left on the nightstand weeks ago,
the one I kept nagging about,
was gone.
I buried my face in the pillow,
hoping to suffocate myself
in his signature scent,
subtle keynotes of testosterone,
sweat and aftershave,
neglecting my dirty laundry,
and the pillowcases
that were sprinkled with strands
of his long, black hair.
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well, it seems i’ve got no direction when it comes to blogging. which is just an extension of how i’m feeling in every facet of my life. but i am hopeful this is about to change. stay positive, that’s what i’m going to do. i just haven’t started yet.
