I waited at the taxi but she did not look back.
Supernaturally, the minute she took off, it started to rain.
It has rained ever since.
It’s rained so bad that the sea has torn down the pier in our village.
It used to be twice that length.
What is it with me and floods, water and destruction following split ups and goodbyes?
Did I offend Neptune, Poseidon, Thor and Portland Bill all in one sentence?
I did not cry.
Unfortunately I did my mourning in front of her, yesterday.
Hopeless romanticist, eternal optimist and Piscean fantasist that I am I had planned that our last days together would be fun-packed, loving and conducted mostly in the bedroom.
They were not.
Instead our last night together consisted of her sleeping with her back to me. I wanted to be with her one last time and hold her as tight as I could all night as it could well have been the last time I ever see her. She did the opposite; pulling away and harrumphing which breaks your heart, makes you vulnerable and angry and produces the similar effect of you pushing them away.
We had a thoroughly miserable last two days with me exhausted through not sleeping from worry. Now she’s gone I feel dreadfully alone and, after no real sleep, its only been a few hours since she left. What will I become without her? I can’t sleep without her next to me. Its like I’m missing a leg or at least a toe and makes about as much sense as selling sun cream to black people or driving five and a half months across Australia with the Top Gun soundtrack as your only tape.
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