This room

i allowed my mind to wonder, which after recent months, has come to light to be a bad idea

This room, there is so much memory of it all here, the air is filled with the aroma of her scent, the pillows, the cover, the band around my wrist… all smell of her. I cant stop thinking about her, she filled every part of this domain, with every passion and breath that she had. But the scent has faded since she left.
The music, that fills this room, fills me with the memories of her smile, her laugh and her love. The music still plays in the room, but it has grown quiet since she left.
My art book, filled with my sketches of her, draw around her and with her, all have her scribbles in the corners of their pages that show and tell of her love for me, although the graphite has worn down and faded from the turned pages.
My writings, filled with the passion, zeal and wanting of her, now plague my mind as they run through the labyrinth of its complexity.
The jumper I wear, smells of her, she would wear it when I was around her, she enjoyed the warmth I concealed within it, the incense of my persona that lives within the jumper as I wrapped it around her, she would hug me and kiss me, the jumper becoming a protective shell against the worlds cold and brittle breathe of its weathering and maliciousness. But now the jumper is hung up and forgotten. 
The paper I hold in my hand, its green complexion and red rose heart, her little note of affection, my favourite gift from her, now quivers in my hand, to know the love has been sucked and ripped from this room.
 

Reviews

[Anna]

This was a pleasure to read...powerfully written. your use of language put me in the room I could almost smell and feel what your words said. well done!