She and Her

When she's gone

Why... Why did she have to leave me? I remember the days when we'd wake up next to each other. Her cupping me to her breast, holding me with her classic gentle grasp. I can still smell her, the sweet scent of fresh cut grass and roses. I remember the dent that was left on her side of the bed as she got up every morning. I still picture her changing for work, watching her undress. Seeing the lacy bra and sexy underwear on her petite figure. The smooth look of her skin. I wouldn't be able to control myself. I'd get up and I'd grab her, kissing her back and neck. I would feel her, her everything, every curve and bare parts. I'd pick her up and throw her on the bed. Kissing her with passion. Those were the moments that I loved.
She was perfect to me. She had severe depression and a history of drug abuse, but she was still perfect to me. I loved her for everything she was. Was.
One morning stood out from all the others, forever engraved in my brain. The bed was filled with only me. I got up with confusion, my dent being the only one on the bed.
A note. I saw a note placed on the bed. It had a picture of our truck and underneath the picture it said "I'm sorry, love". I didn't understand. Not until my senses kicked in and I heard the water running in the bathroom. My brain started functioning again, putting me in fight or flight mode.
I ran to the bathroom. The door was locked. I ran into the door with my shoulder many times. I ignored the burning sensation. I had to get in there. And eventually I did.
Pure shock took over, until I fell to my knees. Then horror filled every ounce of my being. I screamed, I screamed louder than I ever have before. I grabbed at my cheeks, digging my nails into the sides of my face. Crying, pinching myself, demanding to wake up. But I didn't. It felt like hours that I just sat there processing what I'm seeing, trying my very best to calm down. There was my love, my everything, my world. Layed cold in the tub, filled and overflowed. Red, crimson everywhere. Her limp body and still eyes stared at me. Looking as if she'd been frozen in time.
Her funeral was brutal. The only person that knew her there was me. The rest attending were friends of mine for emotional support. She didn't have much family, and the ones she did have shunned her away for either being gay or her drug problem. Even though she recovered, they never got back in touch. But even then, she always smiled. She was so happy with me, and I with her. We both had problems, but none of them ever weighed us down. Or so I thought.
It's been many years since then. I haven't loved, I haven't even felt an ounce of connection with another soul. I've been left completely numb since that day. Drinking, getting into drugs myself, sleeping around. I've gotten into bar fights and wound up in the hospital with serious injuries because of my own careless behaviors. I've stopped caring for my own life. I don't care to live or die. I'm just here. I act careless and self destructive. My family and friends have been trying to get me to see a therapist and go to rehab. I just don't care enough to. The only person who could ever change my mind is her. But she is no longer here, no longer able to communicate. Weather it was my fault or not, weather I could have saved her or not, she is no longer with me. And no matter what I cannot live without the one person that filled the hole in my heart. I'm sorry.