My December

Haunted

Haunted
Louder, louder
The voices in my head
Whispers taunting
All the things you said
Faster the days go by and I’m still
Stuck in this moment of wanting you here
Time
In the blink of an eye
You held my hand, you held me tight
Now you’re gone
And I’m still crying
Shocked, broken
I’m dying inside

Where are you?
I need you
Don’t leave me here on my own
Speak to me
Be near me
I can’t survive unless I know you’re with me

Shadows linger
Only to my eye
I see you, I feel you
Don’t leave my side
It’s not fair
Just when I found my world
They took you, they broke you, they tore out your heart

I miss you, you hurt me
You left with a smile

Mistaken, your sadness
Was hiding inside
Now all that’s left
Are the pieces to find
The mystery you kept
The soul behind a guise

Where are you
I need you
Don’t leave me here on my own
Speak to me
Be near me
I can’t survive unless I know you’re with me

Why did you go?
All these questions run through my mind
I wish I couldn’t feel at all
Let me be numb
I’m starting to fall

Where are you?
I need you
Don’t leave me here on my own
Speak to me
Be near me
I can’t survive unless I know you’re with me

Where are you?
Where are you?

You were smiling
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Word Count: 605

Prudence sat cross-legged in her closet, shoes, clothes, and random possessions scattered around her.

She pulled her flimsy robe tighter around her and continued to sort through her old clothes that no longer fit her. Some of the clothes she didn't even remember buying. Perhaps they weren't even hers.

She stood to push a pile of clothes out of the closet and into her bedroom when she spotted the shoebox on the shelf above where the clothes hung. The rest of the shelf was empty except for that one box.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she reached for the neon-blue shoebox. She took her place again on the floor and opened it.

Immediately, she remembered what she'd put in the box and why it sat alone, forgotten, on the top shelf of her closet.

First, she found a stack of photos, her and Jeremy smiling and holding each other in front of the camera. She flipped through them and felt a lump rise in her throat. The pictures were taken when they first started dating.

She set them aside and reached for the ticket stub lying under it- the ticket stub from their first date. The name of the movie was faded and she couldn't recall what it had once said.

Prudence continued to pull out things that she had once collected during their dating years. The last thing in the box, placed at the very bottom, was a folded piece of paper. She reached for it reluctantly. Her fingers were already shaking, along with the rest of her body, with the effort it took to hold back her tears.

She unfolded the piece of paper and saw Jeremy's handwriting. On the sheet was a poem, scribbled in blue ink. She found as she read the first stanza that she could no longer hold back the tears. They streamed down her face as she read the poem that had sealed the deal on her heart.

She thought she'd lost it.

When she finished the poem, she placed the contents of the box back into it. She sat back on her heels, folded her hands in her lap, and sobbed.

Why did this happen to her? Why hadn't her husband loved her like she loved him?

And why did she still yearn for him? Why did she still wish the was here and feel him in every inch of the apartment?

Prudence stood, the blue box cradled in her arms, and made her way to her bedroom door, stopping when she spotted her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung there.

She looked so old- bags under her eyes, frumpy clothes, and bed head. She ran a hand through her long, brown hair to straighten it and then pulled her robe closer around her body.

Ignoring her terrible reflection, Prudence left her room and went straight to the dumpster outside.

The early sunlight was a comfort to her cold skin, but she wished she had thought to put on more clothes, or at least shoes. Her bare feet slid over rough concrete, and they ached, but she pushed on.

She approached the large, blue dumpster, trying hard to avoid the smell of old garbage. She glanced up at the lid and knew she would not be able to lift it.

Looking for a solution, she peeked around the side of the dumpster and spotted a square hole where trash stuck out. She walked over to it and placed the box on top of a pile newspaper before giving it a hefty push.

She stepped back and took a deep breath of fresh spring air.