No more temporary highs,
to hide away the hurt.
No more lies,
No more “good-byes”.
No more temporary fills,
to fill the voids,
or making homes of
what we should avoid.

Some people will often list the smell of rain among their favorite smells,
but to me it is an awful stench; a reminder of that hellish night.

Some people are made giddy as they watch the dark clouds gather and anticipate the droplets,
but the air of excitement is something I dread; it suffocates me.

Some people watch the cars zoom by and admire that sound of the wet pavement hissing in response, but this noise is associated with a memory that holds me captive; it is a prison to me.

Some people find the smells and sounds of rainfall to be soothing, but I feel as if the world is mourning with me when it rains; a storm played in the background the night my life was shattered.

Some people marvel at the beauty of lights reflected in water, but I cannot admire these things for fear that I might get stuck in my head; my mind might think we're back living that night again.

Some people used to include myself; no longer, but there is not a day that goes by without a prayer that I might one day return to the world's collection of some people.

i crave touch and affection
as any human does
but i am reserved, an observer, an introvert
i am content to spend an entire day cuddled up
with someone who feels the same way i do
on a rainy day like today
there is nothing more i want
than to feel
to feel alive
to feel loved
to feel connected
to not feel alone

the rain
against the window pane,
pouring down
falling to the ground;
droplets after droplets connecting,
until it slides down.
a mug of hot chocolate,
on the cold table contrasting,
waiting to be drank.
i watch as my favorite kind of days unleash before me,
raindrops falling on my face
bit by bit,
feeling that i should be complete
and yet,

Something's missing.

as the rainy days pass by,
       the same window pane,
       the same mug,
       the same incomplete feeling,

Something's missing.

You.
I am missing you.
I miss you.

—a.c