With All My Senses

measured truths approach

line / noun

a long, narrow mark or band

Yet hours pass and still sleep avoids me. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, but instead, I just lay there numbly, eyes wide awake. Finally, I pick up my phone from the small coffee table and check the time, the bright screen filling the room with blueish electric light that has no mercy.

03:23 a.m.

Great, just great.

I sigh and drop the phone on the covers, then I fumble around until I take off my sweatpants, throw the blanket away and sit straight. Let's face it, sleep wasn't coming, might as well end this little charade. I move slowly in the darkness and put on the electric kettle in Charlie's kitchen, then stand there silent until the water boils. I put an Earl Grey bag in the mug, throw in too much sugar to soothe my nerves and then return to the living room. Tiredly, my stare falls on the moon hanging high in the sky, its light seeming to call me, so I join it, in its lonely venture in the night.

* * *  

Charlie

I see her sitting on the windowsill, just in an old, oversized t-shirt. It's black with a green sign of some rock band on the front that I don't even recall, way too big for her thin form. It's silent, everyone is sleeping, but of course, she's awake, sitting there and staring at the moon, the feeling of loneliness covering her whole being. She's drinking tea, the steam and the smell of it still floating in the air, giving it an almost magical feeling. Like the delicate mist that hovers over a lake in the early hours of the morning, just before dawn - I stare at the late hour on my watch.

 Well, close enough.

My gaze follows her as she sits there, deep in thought, lost somewhere in memories that I might never be allowed to hear. I back away to my bedroom, a heavy sensation in my lungs. Maybe one day she will tell me, forcing her won't cause any effect, she has to want to do it. I can only try to speed up the process before it's too late.

As I walk away, the floorboards creak beneath my feet, making me curse silently and hope that the sound was only ringing so harsh in my head.

* * *

I stare at the window and a certain heaviness waves over me as I let memories glide through me. Painful waters that always move, dripping on the cold floor. I hear a low creak behind me, but my mind works slower than usual, and it takes me a moment to fully register it. I turn around but there is no one there. It doesn't matter anyway. I know that I'm safe here. My gaze follows the low moon behind the glass as I let the thoughts embrace me, for the first time not fighting them, not this time. My fingers wrap around the mug tighter trying to feel the warmth in my head, and not just beneath my skin as my whole body seems to tremble from the whispers of my mind.

Slowly, I circle the faint, normally barely visible line on my finger, yet so clear in the moon, almost screaming at me with its paleness. I used to wear it in summer. In the summer before it all happened, when I was still happy. I wore it then, and I wore it after. Until I had to let it go.    So, I could still breathe with these already heavy lungs, that could no longer carry the extra weight. Even if it was just the weight of a small silver ring, with a painted daisy, its petals fading out just like my memory of him. I can't remember how he smelled anymore, so desperately inhaling the past, or how his fingers felt against mine. Unable to feel him, even if my heart was still filled with him to the brim. I sigh, feeling beaten up. Happy. What does that word even mean? I make myself focus, as my past tries to slip through the millions of cracks that made my mind, and I let it in.