I keep telling myself tomorrow, tomorrow will be a better day. Tomorrow will be the day that I’ll forget his hallo, cold voice telling me that it will be okay. Tomorrow will be the day that I will erase his face from my memory. Tomorrow will be the day that I won’t fear letting people in. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. But tomorrow never fucking comes. No matter the strain I put my self through to forget. It walks back in the house, key in hand, laughing, joking, smiling. I can lock and bored every window and door. But the memory, the pain is built into the walls that I call my “safe room”. But maybe tomorrow will be a better day.