This is the same spot I've pondered all the words never exchanged, as well as the ones we've said too often.
Bitter snake venom that spits vile speech laced with I'm sorry's that evaporate into the hot air.
I sit right here where you left me.
There is something so nostalgic about sitting exactly where your last words were dealt like the terrible hand I didn't ask for.
Wondering if you will come back and find me here surprised I haven't moved a fiber of my body.
It calms me to think for a millisecond in this solitude, I'm actually not alone at all.
You're right here with me and if my somber thoughts can be this vivid and if my nose still recollects your scent then how could I really be isolated in this hell?
Is that you or have I actually gone mad?
Is there more to this puzzle we never finished or were those the only pieces in our box? Somehow did I lose a corner piece or two?
I'll retrace my steps if it means I can do it from this spot.