I feel my heart aching as I sit and think in my own hiding spot.
I touch the soft silk sheets of my bed and think of what it meant.
The pillows and the clothes I wore still smell like you.
I bring a single pillow close to my chest and bury my face into it.
Small tears fall down my face as I squeeze the pillow with all my might.
The pillow evades my grip for a moment as I look at it with my sad eyes.
As I stare, I begin to see your smiling face and cheerful eyes.
Rage billows up from deep inside as I punch the spot hard with my fist.
Punch after punch, rip after rip, shred after shred. The pillow is gone.
Try as I might, I do not hate you, but I do not love you either.
Confusion is the resting stone for problems and weary souls.

-Solaria

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Slyphian, in the year 148 MA.