Moonlight Kisses

always you

beau.

I miss her soft, careful touch. How her fingers would graze my skin with such delicacy. As if I'd break under her touch.

Another swig of alcohol. I'm doing what I always told her not to do. Drowning my sorrows in whiskey so the pain of losing something, or rather someone, subsides. I guess I just never thought I'd be here in my bedroom, half a bottle of whiskey gone, numbing the pain that comes with losing her. Being so wrapped up in the feeling of being in love with her just didn't allow me to see the chance of ever losing her.

I miss her vanilla scent. Every inhale I took with my nose buried deep into her golden strands of hair felt like home.

She was right about something at least. Jo may not have been perfect, but she could see things for what they were. As long as the harsh reality was outside of her, everything else she had down to a T. I was never in any superior position to deem her drinking a problem. The fuck did I think I was? A shitty excuse for a therapist at best. Who was I to call her out on her issues when I still had mine? It isn't until now that they arise with a vengeance. Without my moonlight here to brighten up all the corners of my mind, I'm left with the dark parts I let myself forget about because I haven't become familiar with them in a long time. It's been a long time coming, this downward spiral. Should have known I relied too much on the pillar of light in my life to keep me from going insane.

I miss listening to her angelic voice as she talked to me about all the things she was passionate about. Books, movies, her friends.

Months ago, I didn't think this girl would have left such a lasting mark on my life. I could have done with or without her at one point, which is incomprehensible to me looking back on it from where I've found myself today. Jo became my life. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I naturally gravitated to her. Immersed myself in every aspect of her life, whether it was insignificant little things like laughing at her as she struggled with getting the fitted sheet on her bed or the things that encased more meaning than that, like talking to her every night before she fell asleep. With her gone, there was this huge empty space. Before, she'd take up every second of every waking day. When we weren't awake, she'd find her way into my dreams. Since I broke up with her, I've had too much fucking time on my hands and nothing to do with it that even remotely compared to filling that time with her.

I miss her kisses. The unmistakable way her silky lips mold to mine. Her kisses were like a touch of heaven, a peek through heaven's gates when she brushed her lips across my skin.

I broke up with her. At the moment it felt like the right thing to do. I was at my complete end. Hanging on by a measly thread, awaiting my downfall. Little did I anticipate my biggest downfall to being a life without her. I knew it would hurt, breaking things off with the girl I love more than anything, but I didn't think it'd hurt this bad. I've only eaten the things Sophie practically force-feeds me. Outside of that, I've barely managed to keep anything down. Most of my days are spent sleeping and when I'm not doing that I'm tending to my trusty bottle of alcohol.

The irony about this whole thing isn't lost on me whatsoever. All the months we've been together, my number one fear was that she'd be the one breaking up with me. Never the other way around. I thought that one day she'd wake up from this dream world of ours and realize she deserves someone better. A nice, simplistic man who didn't need fixing. Who she would never feel the need to hide from her friends and family. I thought she'd come to the realization that I could never be fixed and that she'd give up on me at a moment's notice. She never had to put up with my shit, yet she did because deep down she was always a selfless person. That trait just wasn't very apparent in the last month or so of our relationship.