the art of missing you
it's now 11:56pm. you were no where's near my mind, for the first time in a long while i had a brief break from the ghost of you that usually haunts my thoughts. i opened a message from my friend and my initial thought is "oh?". only it's then that startled me the most. the voice in my head was not my own. it was yours. your memory as vivid as if you were right there, as if it were yesterday. not only was there a voice, but an image. i visualized you perfectly without a second thought. accompanying your voice, raising in pitch as you completed the word, i seen the raise of your eyebrows, the slight tilting of your head and the laugh behind your words. i seen the hint of laughter in your eyes, as they sparkled their brilliant blue.
all of this came simply from reading a message. without any attempt at remembering you whatsoever. and then, the vision was gone as quickly as it had appeared. but your voice still lingered in my mind. and suddenly my eyes were wet, my cheeks were wet, i was cuddling the teddy bear you'd won me at the fair that hadn't been in my arms the last time i checked and i realized what had happened. a simple opening of a message lead to the destruction of my "okay". within seconds, i went from being okay, from being stable, to breaking down at simply the visualization of one syllable coming out of your mouth. how this is possible is beyond me. but this, i will call, the art of missing you. and being completely unable to do any damned thing about it.
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realities of a broken soul | poetry
PoetryA collection of my private, most cherished poems. authors note: certain poems talk in relation to self harm or depression, including mentions of suicide. such poems are marked with an "(x)" in the chapter title.
