My desire for you

I want you. Everything. Your dark, messy hair. Your forest green eyes that always shone. Your soft lips and how they felt against mine. Your muscled body pressed against my fragile one. Your big hands and what they could do. I miss you. I want you back, but I don’t know where to start. Where to look. If my mother would hear me now, she would hit me and tell me to stop hoping when it is clear that you are not coming back anymore. But she doesn’t understand. The hope sticks like glue and doesn’t let me go. And how is everything clear ? When I had to bury a coffin without a body ? How is it clear that you are not coming back if they didn’t even find your body ?

They tell me I am insane if I look for you and depressed if I don’t do anything. But what if I am both ? Insane  and depressed ? A deadly combination if you ask me. So don’t ask, and if you do, I won’t answer.

The first steps towards the door are the hardest. My legs feel like they don’t belong to me and my broken body weighs heavily on the legs of the other. My arms hurt with every pull on the door. When it finally opens, I am overwhelmed by the cold, hard air from outside. The tendency to close the door again is big, but the thoughts of you are bigger. I won’t feel the cold anyway, for the one in my heart is more dominant. The fear to freeze from the inside out has disappeared and made place for a desire for that darkness. For that feared end, that everyone calls death. Maybe I will find you there, among all those strange souls. Maybe that’s where you are waiting for me.

I have to drag myself further to move forward, but it seems like every step forward is one backwards. It’s been like that for a while now. The neighbor greets me with a surprised but comforting look, full of pity. That is how everyone looks at me. Like I am the victim, while you are the one on the ‘missing’ posters. But I endure it, because I can take the name ‘victim’ from your shoulders for a while. I still remember when you told me you hated it when people saw you as a victim. You said it was the way they looked at you. It was different and it would never be the same again. I didn’t understand at the time, but now I see what you meant.

The journey to the park isn’t far, but it seems like it lasts an eternity before I see the now familiar trees. I sit down on the just so familiar bench and wait. Wait for you. Just like every day since you disappeared. This is the place where you first kissed me, after we had claimed how much we hated each other. You once told me, on a day when the sun still shone, that if anything ever happened, I had to wait for you here and that then you would come.

It’s like you knew what was going to happen, whatever happened.