16 HONEST CONFESSIONS FROM THAT NIGHT IN JULY

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16 HONEST CONFESSIONS FROM THAT NIGHT IN JULY - Best Surprise Wish

16 HONEST CONFESSIONS FROM THAT NIGHT IN JULY I GOT DRUNK or, HOW TO DROWN THE MEMORIES OF PEOPLE YOU LOVE or, THE BEGINNER’S SURVIVAL GUIDE TO KISS SOMEONE YOU LOVE GOODBYE or, HOW TO LET GO OF THE DEAD (— after Kevin.) 💖
.
🙇 i. i crossed fifteen and a half countries,
to see your once bright face turned blue,
to attend your funeral.
.
🙇 ii. i emptied an entire journal trying to draft
the perfect eulogy for you, i end up writing one for myself.
.
🙇 iii. i enter your house, it’s full of our childhood
photographs, quite a stroll down the amnesia lane.
.
🙇 iv. i do not cry.
.
🙇 v. they lower your body in the ground,
right next to the daisy gardens.
they are one of your favourites, right?
.
🙇 vi. your epitaph says,
“busy finding humour in tragedy.”
you could never resist the temptation, could you?
.
🙇 vii. your mum asks me if i am okay,
i smile weakly and nod, i stay over for one night
i do not sleep, i look at all our photographs you’ve
framed.
.
🙇 viii. i do not cry.
.
🙇 ix. i do not let you go.
i do not kiss you my last goodbye.
i hold on to your ghostly glow.
.
🙇 x. i open your profile on Instagram.
zero posts. zero followers. no display picture.
unchanged bio.
you did not leave a single trace of yourself.
.
🙇 xi. your father announces that you’ve written letters
for everyone, a closure of sort he says
he hands me over mine,
i fail to find courage to open and read.
.
🙇 xii. i do not cry.
.
🙇 xiii. i cross fifteen and a half countries
back to where i began,
back to the point where i received the first
phone call and some stranger who told
me what had happened.
.
🙇 xiv. you deserved to live more, you know.
but time doesn’t matter as long as the person does
am i right?
.
🙇 xv. my therapist says everything will be fine,
as long as i do not plan my own funeral,
as long as i do not make the eulogy i wrote
the last thing i ever write.
.
🙇 xvi. i am wilting, from trying to let you go.
.
it’s been one month and two days, and
you do not knock on my frontal cortex any more.
i am sorry.
i am dead from trying to let you go.

@writerhashtagged

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