it hits me when I least expect it.
with my family chattering around me, my sister adamant about not having people sing her 'happy birthday' in the crowded restaurant — my glass pauses halfway to my mouth, jerking to a soft halt as my fingers curl tighter around its handle.
the shock. the cold. the empty.
somehow, it feels like my stomach shrinks inside of my body. shivering, I place the glass down on the table as softly as I can manage. I stare into a speck of nothingness in the air.
you are not here, I register. you are not here, not anymore, and you never will be again.
the loss catches me, holds on to me (the way you should have), and doesn't let me go. I am breathless, and all I can think about was, this was a mistake.
(even the briefest, most accidental thought of you, and the pain brings me to my knees.)
YOU ARE READING
catharsis.
Poetrythe only demons I have the power to exorcise are my own. ✧ ©2018 Phoebe Cheong. All Rights Reserved.
