I Am Sprinkles

My world had gone cold. An emptiness crept inside of me, pawed it's way into my heart and curled up to snooze, much like I might have done to a throw pillow or ball of blankets.

He left me. Suddenly, one day, he was gone, much like his brother had disappeared before him, though the brother's absense was nothing compared to the longing... the betrayal I felt when he... when he left.

I wanted to be confused. I wished to spend hours lying awake wondering why. Instead, I knew. Hours were spent dwelling on the knowlege that he had left because of me. The regret was exhausting, the hurt was unbearable and while I crawled my way through every minute of every hour of every day, I was hopeless... I had no reason to go on, but for him. And he had left me.

And now months have past. The pain has not diminished, no. It has not become anymore bearable. It has simply... grown familiar. A haunting part of me.

I miss him. Not his smell, not his touch, but his voice. Oh, the songs he would sing. The songs he would sing. And I knew, I knew by the twinkle in his eye while he sang these songs, they were for me. These songs were mine. His voice was mine. He was mine. And I was his.

I... I was his.

And now he is gone.

The small divot in the couch cushion, where his firm buttocks would rest when he was weary, ceased to be not a week after he had gone, and any trace of his warmth soon after. But I return to it. Day after day. Some days I can close my eyes while I lie on that spot and remember. Oh, to remember. My whiskers tingle, swept up by memories, and I smile.

He may be gone, but at least I have these memories and tingly whiskers and the pain. The pain that assures me... only something that was truly good can hurt so bad once it is gone. And what we had... what we had was truly good.

I'm gonna go shit in some sand.