I miss you so viciously.
I always forget the tragedy of this feeling.
Instinct often overrides common sense,
leading me to craving your lips, your touch, your everything.
But most of all,
I miss your eyes.
Your eyes were the perfect hue of crushed aquamarine and sapphire stones.
Many times those eyes had to observe from the edges my sorrow and despair.
Now, I'm observing those eyes smiling, but I'm no longer the cause.
I made this choice, to leave you,
to leave all of our past behind me.
I crawled out of the ditch that was our relationship,
burying everything six feet under, where I couldn't dig it back up.
Late nights and late night thoughts brought me back to that ditch.
The absence of you has led me back to the days when the smile you have now was because of me.
The absence of you carves out what has been left of my sanity and I terrorize myself with my impeccable recall.
Six days ago, I was on top of the world,
while simultaneously existing beneath a sheet of ice covering a pond.
Without your permission,
I fell back into your aquamarine and sapphire eyes.
I was mesmerized by the remnants of our connection.
But the time has passed for any confessions outside of these words.
Six hundred and fifty miles will soon separate us and put a strain on me.
Because of you and my woven tragedy,
I'm gaining an ache directly below my breast bone.
It's barely there,
not at all visible to the naked eye.
But it's starting to cut just a little close,
getting much nearer to my throat.
It's clogging up with an ache that rivals the one growing just beneath my hard-won shell.
You've made your lasting impression on me and my nervous system.
Your eyes are forever imprinted on the insides of my eyelids,
unable to be rubbed away.
Now I'm just left with this chaotic pain,
and echoes of words screamed into my face.
You are hard to put into words.
You leave me speechless at times,
but the again, occasionally,
I have the daring urge to scream so loud at you that spittle flies.
More often than not though,
I just want to scream at myself.
The night sky and the stars and the moon question me.
Irresolution creeps to the basement of my soul,
snapping the homemade defenses in two.
Bile and tears climb my throat as shadow and trepidation crawl into my head.
Hidden secrets fester along with the feeling of emptiness.
That void eats positivity like a tiger eats deer:
followed by a pounce,
and then teeth shredding everything to little bits.
The stars cry out for answers,
while the sky demands too much in order to maintain my sanity,
and the moon just gazes inquisitively,
wondering what darkness brought me to my knees.
Bright colors wash out in the moonlight while indecision clouds my perception.
Misunderstanding loops around all of my decisions;
death to all right-doing.
It's only half past the point of no return,
And I'm just dying for a drink to get me by.
A cigarette in either hand would suffice,
Or a nice bit of snus to cure my sliced up wrists and my sliced up heart.
I never bled for you directly, better conditioned to waste away nights with booze and poor decisions.
I don't know who decided that my plans were wrong and misguided,
But fuck 'em.
I have been beaten down by the one I loved, to the extent that no one else should, not even her.
I just need a little of the bud I hate in order to quiet the demons that scream every waking moment without you.
I write to fight them off, to fight the sinking memories of "everything" we had, and force them into an airtight box, with an unbreakable seal.
So that not even ghost whispers of "I think I love you too" can taunt me.
I am steel, iron, titanium!
You will not break me.
You've done enough already with intention and I crave physical pain to prove your hatred.
But you never laid a hand on me, better equipped with sour words and a vice grip on my heart that wouldn't stop squeezing.
It's only half past eight,
And the sun is a distant memory, just like all the little moments we had that meant so much at the time.
I don't know where you are right now.
It scares me a lot.
Worst case scenarios scream into my head, logical ones being shoved away in a last ditch attempt at cynicism.
The fact that I'm crying and falling apart so solidifies your existence in my life.
You mean more to me than I ever meant to let a friend mean to me again.
Not after him.
Not after he made a mockery of our friendship.
Not after everything that changed because of that, because of him.
The fact that I don't know what I'd do without you now, only proves your worth.
I want you to stay.
I don't want you to be like the others.
We've spoken of broken promises and how actions scream while words make no sound at all.
I've found explanation and cures for unknown, fatal viruses.
And this clock that keeps ticking, is mocking my anxiety and fear of your safety.
I know where you are now.
I know you're safe, at least safer than I thought you were.
You'd be safer if you were here, but then again so would I.
Without your contact, I've let the others step in easily and consume me.
Without your consent, I let myself slip back into times when I was vulnerable and weak.
Without you, my memories are cutting deep and I'm unable to sew myself up quick enough.
I stand by my decision of forcing you out of my life.
And the tears that are forming are merely weaknesses taking advantage of my broken night.
I haven't missed you in months.
Anger has taken firm grip of my heart and I haven't grieved your escape since that first night.
But I was the one that escaped your tortuous words that exhausted all my strength.
I gag at one memory, but the others flood my mind, ones of times when you supported me, and let me cry on the phone.
You were my best friend, but you've been replaced.
But tonight I'm trying to find something in her that is impossible to find because it doesn't exist within her.
It exists within you.
It exists within all of our walks, talks, and exalted dreams.
It exists within the fears we secretly held, but didn't even let ourselves think of.
And I haven't craved your companionship in fucking forever and I can't stand this agony.
But I stand by my decisions, especially when I know they were borne of reason and logic.
I managed to survive the last week of September without you, still stung with disbelief.
I got through October dazed and drunk, smoking more than ever before.
Through November ended mistakes brought from October's drunken nights, but brought more pain than I could breathe through, or bleed out.
December flourished without you, made me believe that maybe this would all get easier.
January continued flourishing, but heavy bricks rained down upon my head, conjuring up wishes that you were here to help.
February started the distractions, the utter confusion, and brought back the inklings of pain.
Without you, I got through the endless amounts of stress that March dragged in and out of my heart, and I reached goals without you there to hold my hand.
But April, I narrowly escaped. I barely took a solid breathe that wasn't tinged with a thought of you all month. I didn't go a night without questioning your existence, and mine. Seeing you for the first time since that last week in September destroyed me.
And now, May, I know I can remain living without you, but it won't be without you on my mind. The memories of this month will haunt me, just like last month's haunted me. But I'll scream, cry, curse past the pain and walk into June with a confident smile.
I can't handle this.
And I'm done.
I'm sick of craving and fighting and losing.
No one likes not getting what they want,
But I have this knack of getting what I don't want and hurting over what I do.
'Beggars can't be choosers' but I was taught to never settle.
Baby, I want you, but I want so many others too.
And now I can't even figure out if I want any of you.
You've all broken a tiny piece of me, mostly unintentionally.
But I can't take it anymore.
I can't breathe past the innate weakness drowning me,
Or the multitude of eyes flashing before mine with waves of concern oozing out from their cores.
I want you, I crave you, and I need you so badly.
I don't want this anymore though.
Driving through roads I haven't gone before, rain drops scattering on my windshield,
A sudden ache flooded my veins, my bones.
I unexpectedly felt a rush of homesickness.
I desired to see the mountains where I spent my favorite times with you.
That was when I began splitting,
That was when you began dying,
But we were together.
Those drizzly days, walking around, exploring places you'd never heard of, and places I'd dreamt of since the day I'd last left.
I haven't missed that place in a long time,
Ever since the desire to be there was overshadowed with the desire to escape nightmares associated with those mountains, and those unrelenting stars, but not with you.
You taught me a few things there.
You taught me how to be silent with you and with the stars.
You taught me how to actually enjoy that silence.
You taught me how even the most familiar of places are the most unknown.
You taught me how to have fun with matches without hurting myself (at least intentionally.)
Those mountains stuck with me, week after week, after month, after we left.
The snow and the cold, even in July, forcing us back to the car, but not until after we explored and shared Dad's camera.
The chipmunks loving you more than they loved me, eating out of your palm and crawling all over you, while I took more pictures, stuck with me too.
I don't know how we survived that trip as I fell stupid in love and you climbed into your sacred, secret tower, with Mel, that I couldn't quite reach.
But it's days like Saturday that remind me of all we gained on that trip.
We can just sit, in silence, with each other, my head on top of yours, and feel completely at peace with each other.
Even if not at peace with the rest of the world.
Your hair was longer.
That's the one thing about you that is sticking in my mind.
That, and the fact that I've seen those jeans a million times.
But I still can't breathe when I think about it.
I dropped my eyes so quickly I went blind for a moment.
No words were said between us, the talking from the others filled the room far better.
I couldn't even look at you past the initial one when you waltzed right into my profusely damaged psyche.
Your voice in my ears was an angry grater to my nerves.
Your reaction to me there mirrored mine:
We no longer exist to each other.
I finally got what I've wanted for seven months.
I finally know you still exist, that you're still alive.
I have some solace in that, but mostly just stunned disbelief.
I was in the Twilight zone, my life for the past seven months flashing before my eyes and going right down the drain.
The effect you had on me was a piss poor excuse for the one you used to have on me.
But my heart still ricocheted against my core and my torso was enveloped in horrendously painful flames.
I couldn't utter a single word to you, my thoughts ping-ponging around my head.
Or maybe the reason is because I have nothing left to say to you.
My words have dried up just like your affection long ago.
I have no words for you.
No words would justify your actions, nor mine.
No words would even come close to actually portraying what I've felt because of you.
The pain, the guilt, the betrayal, the pure, agonizing rage, the exhaustion, the inability to eat.
Truth be told, I'd rather experience all that than bow down at your feet anyway.
I'm getting this nagging feeling.
I don't know whether it's because in the pit of my stomach, I know you don't approve.
Or if it's the fact that you're not responding, and I'm worrying my fears will be confirmed if I call you.
Or if it's this niggling little thought that wormed its way into my brain, the same one I desperately hate.
You would think I'd learned that this time of year, when I (possibly) gain someone/happiness,
I'm destined (doomed) to lose someone/happiness.
It's happened a little late this year,
Or maybe it just happened a little early last year.
I just want you to talk to me.
I just want to know you're okay.
Normally when you're not, you tell me.
But once again, something's changing, and I can't help but feel happy despite my growing shame.
My memories have made my mistakes.
It was not me.
It wasn't me that hurt you, but some warped self, torn down by grief and rage.
It was not on purpose, old love.
You know that I never meant apologies,
But you know that I didn't mean the harm either.
My memories have made my mistakes.
I beg of you to believe me.
You knew I cared, somewhere, often hidden away from your imploring gaze.
I never dared to care out loud and frankly, I'm sorry.
But you won't believe me.
You never, ever did.
You took the risk with me, a few times,
While I was too wary of your caring gestures, uncertain of your motives.
My memories captured my mind.
They captured me.
"We're slowly letting go, like it's better left alone."
Maybe one day I'll believe all the truths you told me.
Your sleek, falling apart car.
I'm constantly on the lookout for it, anxiously awaiting the day when we bump into one another after all this time.
We don't live in that big of a city, and yet it hasn't happened.
I'm in constant fear of that occurrence, but I'm sickly anticipatory.
Today I followed a car that I could swear was yours for three miles.
It didn't have your signature license plate border, but I thrusted into auto-pilot and followed.
I followed past where I should have, hoping for a glimpse of your face, or even hand, so I would know you still exist.
So I would know you still exist outside of my mental concentration camp that I can't decide if you set up.
Or did I?
I craved seeing you.
I craved the whole feeling that seeing you might bring.
But I know it would only bring what I ached with after following whom might or might not have been you: dissatisfaction.
Dissatisfaction with you, with me, with the fleeting flings I've attempted to make myself feel whole with again.
Dissatisfaction with the strongly held belief, deep in my heart of hearts, that you were someone special.
You were someone special who I couldn't stop from slipping out of my grasp like sand.
The entire time, following that small black car, my heart was pounding on the inside of my ribcage.
I was on the verge of a cataclysmic breakdown of epic proportions.
I so wanted that driver to be you that I could almost smell your aroma of body spray and hookah smoke.
I so wanted that driver to be you that I made her every movement similar to one you would make while driving to the amusement park or to get ice cream or as you would drive away at 1 a.m.
I wasn't going to give up, not yet.
That was my mindset that day,
(after I'd gotten over the initial shock and your surprisingly irate responses.)
I was going to win you back.
It was only a phase.
You were just upset with me.
You were going to drop her like a hot potato once I'd shown you that my side was the best one.
You were going to come running back, just like in July, calling just to hear my voice.
It was the same game, just with a little twist thrown in.
Instead, that twist became a game changer.
One that I underestimated.
I thought she'd be a pawn, a pointless piece easily taken over and tossed to the side of the board, wholly incapable of toppling the King.
I don't think I've ever been more wrong.
I've tried to find my own replacement thimble in Monopoly
Or maybe substitute "spouse" in Life.
I've been bending the rules in poor attempts to win,
While shattering monotonous matches and marring ideal games.
It's no rude awakening that I've never made it past the first round.
Pure and simple.
I'm a sore loser, always looking for a way to cheat my way back in.
I just call it a loss now.
You did another type of cheating and hey, guess what.
You can call it a win;
You didn't have to lose your money, your hotels, your deeds , or your bragging rights.
I'd call it luck, but I know you always play to win.
"I love you."
It'd been a while since I'd heard that from you
And I'd stopped craving to hear those three words from you,
Growing used to you being detached and turning to ice.
And yet I still kept you around.
To fend off the decreasing care you had toward me,
I kept her around.
To fend off your ever fading concern,
I made her believe in all of my lies.
"Give me a kiss."
I couldn't help but smile at that
Relief flooding through my veins at the thought that maybe you still wanted me around
Even though you obviously did by even having me there.
But even though you obviously didn't by the following weekend's events.
But I still wanted you even if you weren't going to want me anymore.
It's how I'd felt for the preceding month.
(And it's how I'd feel for the proceeding six.)
I don't know why I was so surprised.
Rather, the shock that everything I thought had finally come true.
You were not mine anymore
And now I'm doubting if you ever really were.
I'm going insane all over again.
And I can't stand my heart in my throat or the fluid perched precariously on my eyelashes, daring me to blink.
It's that time of year when everything comes together, but it's not happening yet.
You're not happening yet.
At least, not to me.
And she's happening to someone else when a year ago she was happening to me, back when everything made sense.
Back when she made sense.
Spring is a time for rejuvenation.
But the only rejuvenation is to old memories, bringing them back to life with a ferocity equating my love for her (once upon a time).
As I allow you to look at me with those big, heartwarming eyes, I know you know I'm melting.
I know that look you're giving me is only to get what you want, and oh, baby, it's working so well.
I only want, well, everything from you, but my spine is curving and I'll take something, anything.
But it appears you're just as flighty as I am, Liebling.
And even though your actions have spoken louder than your words, (on both sides of your confusing fence) I still remember what you told me, or rather how you said goodnight.
The look you gave me when I found out was more than likely misinterpreted on my part.
But it appeared close to remorse, nearing nausea.
Which were echos of the pangs I felt.
"Sometimes you've got to fold before you're found out."
"Forgiving me. It couldn't have been easy."
Oh you have no idea.
It took many agonizing nights, chock-full of curses and spittle.
It took many fierce poems, dripping with blood.
It took bawling to songs that applied way too much.
It took bawling over someone else to fully accept facts that you weren't the worst person any longer.
It took the pains of others to get through my thick skull that you weren't the enemy any more.
I wonder if it’s my “morals”, my long-standing beliefs getting in the way, the ones we don’t see eye-to-eye on.
The ones that are the only ones we severely disagree on.
Except maybe God, but that's best saved for another day.
I wonder if it's discomfort whenever I talk of Mai or Heather, and how I crave the bitter tastes they've each given me.
The same tastes I ache for when I'm alone in the dead of the night without any sort of repose.
I wonder if it's the far-off look in my eyes when my mind wanders off, bleeding internally at the thoughts that poke holes in my steel protections.
The memories that shake me right down to my glacial core.
I wonder if it's my smile when I actually mean the glimmer that reaches the corners of my eyes.
The twinkle that is caused by Heather's similar grin or Maisie's heart-wrenching touch.
And I wonder if it's just me, and all my broken bits and pieces, that lead you to make dire decisions and drive you to make vapid actions.
I'm perpetually far away.
You know it when you see the look in my eyes, the gleam signaling I'm elsewhere.
I'm perpetually in places that you'll either never see or never be with me.
You feel it in your gut, you know I'm gone.
I'm perpetually absent, and I have been for a while now.
You know that I'll never be yours, in any way.
I'm perpetually lost inside my own head.
You know that you'll never see the hidden trenches, the hidden worlds torn apart by wars waged long before you.
I'm perpetually too far away and you know that'll always be true.
I've reached the point where not everyone looks like you.
But there's still the looks and voices that remind me.
Now, not everything I do is to appease the fleeting love you held.
But I still find myself saying certain phrases and entertaining ideas that would've made you happy, once upon a time.
I've stopped yearning for you every second, or even every day.
Although, the thought of your touch still makes me shiver.