Bullets

I hear the familiar sounds. Cars whooshing by, the train passing, crickets chirping. I see the familiar sight: darkness. There is no fiery arm keeping me warm. There isn't a hand intertwined with mine. There's no one. I'm alone.
The pain, I braced myself for. But when it hit, it hit hard. I couldn't brace myself for the impact. I couldn't push it out of my mind. The pain stayed in my stomach.
I lay awake looking at the darkness. Memories hitting me like bullets. My stomach squeezing the life out of me. Breathing is becoming harder and harder. As I intake oxygen, my lungs feel like they're becoming smaller and smaller. The pain is becoming deeper, harder to withstand. I keep thinking
"Melissa, he's okay. You know he is. You know he's enjoying himself. Don't make him have a reason to worry about you."
My inner-voice is keeping me going. It doesn't release the pain, it just soothes it. It's like make-up for a scar. It doesn't go away, it just makes it appear gone for a little while.
This room is lonely. The air has a certain "unwelcome" message to it. The sounds are irrelevant. Feelings are irrelevant. Everything is futile. Everything without him.

Charmelissa(:™ says:
I don't know what to name my lines. i finished. i sound stupid.
c. says:
Hmmm
What's it about?
Charmelissa(:™ says:
Chavy.
c. says:
I knewwwwww it
Charmelissa(:™ says:
it's.. hard for me to be without him.
not for him. but for me, it's hard.

I was okay before I said that. Then it hit harder, and pain rose, hit my heart and came out in forms of tears. I wish I could tell him when he comes back "I didn't cry" but I did. I wish I hadn't.