I went to town to try and get on with the day, but it was no use. Everywhere in the city reminds me of you, streets we've walked together, places we've been to drink, eat, laugh. All the places we've shared will never be free of your taint, will never be what they were before. It's strange; I both hate and love the way the city makes me feel now. I smile through tears when I think of all the things we've done, the times I've sat with you just listening to you and watching the way you move. But it stings like a heavy slap across my cheeks when I realise there will be no more new memories for a while.
Part of me want to get as far away as possible from anything that makes me think of you, long for your return, pine after your touch and the scratch of your stubble as you kiss me. But my overwhelming desire is to revel in the memories, wrap myself in all we had like a patchwork blanket of love, fun, better times. To remember every tiny detail about you: the clothes you wore; the way your hair fell in a mess around your face; the sound of your voice, gruff and quiet; your smell; how you held me with such tenderness and urgency when we made love. I need the memories to get by, yet the side effects of them slice at me like the barbs of a rose. I want to forget, and yet I never want to forget. And I know I'll be alright, I'll cope. But I'll never be the same again. I'm like a jigsaw with a few pieces missing; I'll never be whole without you here, the city will never be complete without you.
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