Grief

I entered the empty house and saw all the boxes on the floor... Who could imagine that a whole life together would now fit in carton boxes separated by names - mine and yours. Everything that have always belonged to both us is now divided, sorted and put away inside those boxes on the floor. Pictures, portraits, books go with me... clothes, CDs, albums go with you...
But memories stay here in this empty house, inside this empty soul, lost in the corners of my mind, carried by a little hope that things will get better one day - at least that's what my friends say.
You're not here anymore and although I see you everywhere, I know those things are just images from my head, but I wish they were real...
I wish our love was real... you say you can't promise me anything, you want me close to you as your friend. I can't be your friend, becoming your friend means denying so many wonderful things we spent together. It means rejecting the kisses, the hug, the love, the tender moments, the quarrels, the jealousy... no, we can't be friends... not now at least.
I take my boxes, you're coming tomorrow for yours. I look back and I miss the life we were building together - what went wrong?
Too late for answers, maybe too late to make things right... I close the door.
I walk down our street as tears wash my face... get in the car and drive away from there.
It's gonna take a long while to be me again...