They tried to get me to redesign. To change the wall papers that screamed silently of the passion we shared;
Give away the curtains we played hide and seek with; Have a yard sale for the dining table where we laughed, shared meals, made love... I told them that while they are at it,they might as well transplant the spot beneath my breast I left everything the way it was.
She came home one rainy night I couldn't tell her tears from the raindrops that fell from her hair. I met her by the door and held her till my clothes were as soaked as hers were I carried her just in case she changed her mind. Toweled her dry while kissing every inch of her skin. She pointed to the spot beneath her breast and said to me with eyes full of tears 'It doesn't hurt anymore' I held her a little tighter. I watched her breathe all night and envied the air that she breathed. I wished I could to enter her body at will like it did. I would seek out the spot beneath her breast and no respiration process would ever dislodge me from where I call home. I made her breakfast and kissed her hair as she laughed over my soggy eggs. She teased me about how nothing in the house had changed. I told her I dreamed she would be back. I did not want her feeling strange among things that had changed. Everything was the way she left it. She looked at me, pointed to the spot beneath my breast and said 'So long as It doesn't feel strange there, then its fine'. I wept all over again, unable to believe the miracle that had led her home. This time she held me. We had a yard sale the next weekend!
Song of the day: The Script - If you ever come back