I can still hear his voice from the last time we talked, him telling me he’d be home in two weeks – that was six weeks ago, when he was still alive. I can’t remember what his touch feels like, he had been deployed for months. I can’t even remember the last time I held him, kissed him, and now I couldn’t do any of those things.
I undressed and slipped on his t-shirt. It was one of the few things I’d taken out of the boxes holding his things. His scent was still imbedded in the fabric, I pulled the collar to my nose and inhaled deeply… closing my eyes a lone tear rolled down my cheek.
God, I missed him, he was half my soul. His love filled my heart, strengthening it, making it beat thunderous for everyone to hear. Now, with him gone, it was like a glass heart – empty, missing the life that filled it, the love that sustained the soul within me. Fragile and damaged, destined to be breakable from the glass shell it had become.
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