That day is here

Into the desert we go. Alone with our thoughts, alone with our feelings and our pain. Keep breathing. Keep walking. Keep eating. Let the days pass and the thoughts become more clear. 

This day has come, he is gone.

Suddenly the apartment feels so empty. Your clothes in the wardrobe are gone, no chocolate left in the kitchen closet and the clean dishes are waiting to be dried. Your desk is clean but beside it in the sparse bookshelf is the photo you gave me. It is a strange feeling being here with both yours and mine furniture and stuff, but the things that used to tell you were around is now gone. 

Gasping for some air and trying to understand, how to cope with all this?

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