The Snow ball.

-
I miss him sometimes.
and when I do, each time it feels different.

Sometimes it's like getting winded, I am out of breath, my chest is tight with the weight of his absence, I swallow the poison of my thoughts and words and feelings.
I can't feel anything else, or think of anything else.
I choke on them, suffocate because of them.

Sometimes I don't miss him, but I miss certain things about him.
the way he seemed to enjoy my company, and love hearing my rants.
the way he knew what was on my mind, what I always wanted to say before saying it.
the way he cared about the lame details of my day.
his goofy laugh and his shy smile.
The way he argued with me because he knows how much I love argument.
The way he never got tired of me.
And how he was never bothered by my flaws.
I miss how he believed in me, I miss how he was proud of me.
I miss it all.

Sometimes when I miss him I listen to his favorite songs curled up on my bed, I let the music fell my ears, it helps and it doesn't.
I replay his words over and over, I try to hear them in his voice tune because I don't want to forget how he sounded.
I deleted his pictured from my phone and I don't check on him anymore but I still keep his image in my mind.
I try so hard sometimes not to miss him, but I can't.

my friends try to get me out of it, I don't think they understand, because what I lost (what I chose to lose) isn't something I can replace.
They don't bother asking what's wrong anymore because they know what's wrong and they can't make it up for me.
They tell me to stop thinking about him, as if it was a button that I could press off.
They tell me to get more sleep but they don't know that all the sleeping I can get won't give me the rest I need.
it won't get him off my mind.
and the worst thing about it, is the I don't think I'll ever come across anyone like him.
I don't think it will ever go away.
someone as good as him. I tried to hold on but my heart was shaking with fear and my mind was blinded by rage and my hands had thousands of paper cuts and I couldn't hold on.
like a small cottage that's missing a chimney.
it's still a cottage, but there is one important part of it that no longer exists.
Like a puzzle with lost pieces, I'll never be complete.
he was a part of me.
A part that I misplaced and will never find again.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

mirror

-
My thoughts are not holy, My body isn't a temple It's not a sacred space It's tender flesh and a fragile spine, It's nothing remotely divine, It's belimished skin and visible markings, I know there is solace in metaphors, in similes, in saying things not as they are but as what they're like,  in trying to compare what you can't understand to what you do, Maybe only then it will make sense, Trying to simplify it, pulling threads and tying ends and loosening knots, trying to make it look familiar, But it is almost never accurate, Words are just letters, More times than not they hold little to no significance. Little to no reassurance, little to no validation, Sorry , a half hearted apology Always met with sincere acceptance. 
Read more

The apartment

-
 When I think about my ideal house. I think wide balconies,  I think penthouse,  I think small yet not claustrophobia inducing.  I think roomy but not huge.  I think large but just enough to house two people and a pet, preferably a cat.  I think walls, muted yellow and forest green,  I think walls that you can pin me against and kiss me. I think walls, unlike the ones I keep around my heart, that aren't prone to crumbling at any hint of tenderness. I think walls I can hang up pictures of us. Crappy art I make and posters of your favorite things. I think of walls that have ears but never heard screaming or anger, I think of walls that have never witnessed disappointment.  I think of warm nights and cool breeze and long hugs and affection unaccounted for. 
Read more

The Quest.

-
I know regret when I see it, I spot it easily on your grey blotted aura. It glistens through your bloodshot eyes,  the windows of your soul, one glance is more than enough to recognize it. You have taken it upon yourself to seek redemption, From things you have no control over, but it never hurts to try. The sought after resurrection of what have been long dead will drain you, yet, you carry on, with a broken compass and a useless map, determined to revive what was once alive, reclaim what was once yours, But you can't seem to find it. That missi ng thing. You tell yourself that you've got nothing to lose and maybe Just maybe This time there will be a different outcome. A lie you cradle along with the truth. And when you go back to where you started, You swallow your pride and  disappointment, Like splinters of wood,  But your insides are lined with sandpaper, your spine is made of steel, and none of it longer fazes you.
Read more