Save Me, Odysseus

Memories

December 5, 1220 B.C-

              I cried myself asleep again, just like any other night, reminiscing in the memories I cherished with my beloved, decreased husband. That's even if he's decreased or not, but it's tends to get harder to believe he isn't when he's been gone for over twenty years. As I cried, I wonder if this hole within my soul would ever heal. It's been over twenty years and I still cry over the same thing: he's gone. It's as if that reality crumbles all the walls I've built to stay strong and leave me a heaping mess in the silence of my room. The silence makes it worst, because I don't hear the noise of Odysseus soft breathing near me, neither do I hear the bed rustle as he turns over to spoon me in our sleep, whispering loving words to me. "You're my only true love, Penelope..." This leaves me crying harder, as I desperately try to wipe the snots running down my face with the sleeve of my gown. I'm surprised I even have tears to spear considering I've been crying for decades. They say time will heal, but I would like to beg to differ, because as each day passes by my conditions get worst. Instead of feeling whole again, I feel the darkness within my soul, spreading to consume the light I muster to get me out of bed every day. Twenty years, nothing has return to normal. Twenty years, I'm still as lonely as I could ever be. Twenty years, I still feel as if I'm dying from a broken heart that refuses to be healed. Maybe twenty years will finally be the number the gods will end my suffering...

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