The Untitled Diary Entry

I often wake up in the middle of the night, With a ghost of you just sitting there, In front of me, muffled, restless, yet still. I often find myself, writing your name and Reading it, over and over until that name is Resuscitated to life and call me out. I often find myself loving the things you used to, eating the things you loved and thinking to myself "how different was it when you were here? And why is it different now?" I often listen to music and catch your name in the melody. I question the existence of it, the lack of yours and mine, barely. I often wake up to the sound of your breathing, your voice, your words, I wake up to you. Staring right through me: silent, motionless and dead.