His face was like sunlight, so bright and full of promise, a face that fills every inch of you with warmth. When he looked at me, I felt as though everything was going to be ok. But like the sun, they always leave.
He dwindled at the edge of the horizon, like the lingering touch of fingertips against your skin, so close, yet out of reach. He was playing a game. Teasing me.
I chased the sun for weeks on end, gasping for one last day with eternal light. Like a child fearing the dark, I desperately reached with outstretched palms for my nightlight.
But darkness creeps up on you when you least expect it, and suddenly you realise, everything is black.
While sunlight radiates off the faces of friends, friendship and happiness. Shining out of toothy smiles, and freckled cheeks. Darkness is lonely.
Darkness creeps under the gap in your door, surrounding you, penetrating your bones, racing through your veins. Suffocating. It leaves no survivors. After what feels like an eternity, the night is over. They say that's hardest part, the night after, but I disagree.
I would take a thousand nights drifting in and out of restless sleep, salty tears rolling over my mascara stained face, reliving every soul destroying moment in my existence. Wondering what was it about me that made him throw me away, like spitting out a piece of old chewing gum after it loses its taste.
I would rather that, than the realisation that the sun will never be as bright as it was yesterday. That your skin will never feel as warm as it did when basking in its glory. And accepting that, maybe, the sun just got a little bit dimmer that day.
It's true, time does heal all wounds. But you can't go back to before.
Now, it's always after.