Ghost town. There used to be jovial nights on this very street, but the only disco lights I see now are ones from police vans. Almost as if the sirens were the new party anthem to a numbing reality.
One where I do not where my lover is except via phone call. Where his humour can only be felt through my ears and not with my hands. Where the only comfort felt is from this warm patch that covers the part of my face that breathes and smiles.
Although you were unfortunate in contracting the silent assailant, I found comfort in the fact that I learned how to smile with my eyes instead. I looked at the sun through the window and gave thanks for another chance to see a sunset.
We may be in different places, but that’s what the birds were always for – to send out my love and make sure that it always lands perched on your window sill at sundown.