You take my hands, and pull it softly to your trembling heart, then you say to me: "I know those words cut deep, but they don't mean you're all alone. You're not invisible..."

And that was the last time you held my hands, the last time you whispered into my ears, and those were your last words. You said it doesn't mean I'm all alone. You were wrong, very wrong. You left me, and I am now alone. Alone without you to hold hands with me, to whisper to me again beneath your soft breath. Yeah, your words cut deep inside my heart, not theirs, because it was the last time I heard you speak, the last time you took a breath in.

I know I'm not invisible, you were right, but you were wrong too. You're invisible now, not me. I should have told you that, not you telling me. And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have left me, you wouldn't have left without a goodbye. This wasn't part of our plans, it was never in it, that you would go first, that you would leave me behind. No... It wasn't...

Remember when I told you of flowers, of white stones, and of colors? It was the tombstone I wanted, the type you wanted for me too. You promised to always drop pristine flowers every morning, to fill it with white stones and to paint it grey, the color of my eyes, so when you look deeply at it, you see me. You did baby, you promised me all these. But you broke it. Now, I drop flowers, I spill stones, and I paint blue. You broke your promise baby...

You didn't suffer that hemorrhage, you took the pain. You did baby, I watched you, to the ambulance, to the hospital, till you took it in, and yielded. You're a very strong woman, and I respect you for that.

Baby, I've never craved to say this, but you need to know... You need to know that you looked beautiful even without life. Your lips, your soft cheeks, your half-pointed nose, your eyelids, and your lips again, too beautiful, the best I've ever seen.

Now I'm haunted by our memories, the sweet old ones. Vacations, birthdays, guitars, painting, and all. They're now my companion, the things you left me with, the ones that exercises my memory over things we've shared, and you.

Remember what I asked you at the art gallery in Italy last year? I knew you would say yes, I knew you loved that piece, I knew it ceased your breath. And I'm deeply sorry I couldn't buy it, I'm sorry I that I didn't revisit our budget. But I promised to get you that piece this year, didn't I? I'd even buy you one-third of the gallery if only you stayed with me. But you didn't... Jennifer you didn't.

I open my eyes to the moon, to the wind, to the flowers, where your spirit should be... Yet you're still invisible.

I love you,

Forever.

By Abiodun Adebayo (OneAfricanWriter)
oneafricanwriter..com