It is going to be a long, lonely Christmas

A head resting on my forearm as we watch a movie..
A prop for a pillow, or target-practice for pillow fights..
Being beaten incessantly, most times for no reason!
Impromptu dance sessions, two pairs of left feet..
Slender fingers calming the most petulant of rages..
Warm hugs, a tender kiss..

...And as I say your name slowly, my hands instinctively trace the curve of your smile, the lone dimple right above your left cheek that gives your face the slightly lopsided look. The almond shaped cheekbones bordering a dainty nose that slopes to a pair of sensual lips. The chin is sharp and screams "stubborn" and the large teardrop shaped eyes seem always full of mischief. Silky brown hair, quick wit and a crooked smile, a smile that tells you a million things..

Stay here, with me. Just because I’ll miss you horribly if you leave.

An Old Toy is discarded by children, as they grow up. And sometimes, an Old Toy isn't there to come back to. Just isn't. Maybe it found another child, maybe it found a home in the dumpster, out in the backyard. Threadbare, missing an eye/ear/limb and a sizeable chunk of dignity and self-respect, the Old Toy doesn't stop caring. Does stop showing it sometimes though.

You gave me smiles I'll cherish
I'll miss you terribly and I'll try my best never to show it

My blue pillow still has the sweet fragrance of your hair.. My sheets still have the warmth of your arms.. My bed is still eerie without you.. My forehead can still feel the softness of your lips.. My ears still hear your resounding heartbeat.. My mind is still haunted by the ghosts of the road not taken.. I still cry myself to sleep.. Through stolen hugs, hidden touch-es, ruffled hair, smiling eyes, cupped faces, long-drawn kisses, cold noses rubbed together, hands held firm, entwined fingers, tight lonely all-encompassing hugs..

It's raining.. Relentlessly.. Merciless, thick, pelting fat drops.. Sounds of my own retching.. A cold that has nothing to do with the cold.. A numbness starting from my fingertips, up my arm, down my spine, to leaden feet.. Blinded, exhausted, wounded, I'm crawling through the rain, clawing at myself..
My life is the biggest performance of my life..

You may not have broken my trust.. But trust is a fragile thing.. And you have shaken it beyond repair.. And you know that if our places were switched, you would have never forgiven me.. And that is common to both of us.
And I know I'm guilty of that which I gave you a hard time for.. And I'm not making excuses for it..
But I beseech you, and I pray that, you find it in yourself to forgive.. Not me, not the rest of the world, but yourself..

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.. But more than that, much more than that, I care..about you.. And I want that which is right for you.. And that is not me and I can live with it..

Yes, it had to end someday..
But not here.. Not now.. Not this way.. Not with me..

It cannot end like this.. Please God.. It cannot end like this..