Since you've let, I haven't quite been myself. I mean, I'm still the same person. My eyes look the same - pale mint color. And my hands keep reaching the exact same things. And my body remains identical as it ever was. But still, something somewhat changed drastically. These eyes... They don't see how they used to. And my hands... They tremble; they fear any touch whatsoever. And my body became this merely and lifeless figure, filled with pure absence.
I haven't quite been the same, since you've let. As if your goodbye had taken me with you as well. And that made me think that, when people leave us, they never leave alone. They leave behind a part of themselves, and carry with them a part of ourselves. That's what happened. Because, even though you're not here anymore, I can still find you whenever I look. In the middle of those streets where we used to wander, side by side. And between the silence of all the words I can no longer pronounce. And in a form of a long scar along my chest.
You were just like a cigarette. A full pack of them. One by one, I kept on smoking. I kept on breathing a slow death, which felt like the longest of eternities. And then, suddenly, I was addicted. I could not deprive me of you. I started needing you, in a way completely out of my control. But love should never be an addiction, right? Or maybe, it can become the worst of them all.
Since you've let, I have been smoking a lot. And I'm starting to doubt... If I'm trying to breath you in, or trying to smoke you out.