A letter to you
I'm still trying to understand us. Still trying to understand you, even though I've long since lost that role. Words get snagged in my throat and once they're finally stuttered out they're coated in shades of grey. They're disjointed and painful; like bruises. In simplest terms - I miss you.
You are composed entirely of big brown eyes and paper thin promises. Sometimes I worried I'd lose you to a gust of wind. I thought I could rip up the floorboards and tear down my bones like abandoned buildings and rearrange all my odd ends and pieces into an anchor for you. Something to hold you to those paper thin promises.
I put you above everyone else and placed you on a pedestal before me. I think I could've loved you and dear God, I hope I am not being too callous with my feelings. I seem to be in the business of being irrational with my feelings because I promised myself I would not get attached, but you'd already planted yourself in my spine and it was too late. If you were to ask me how I feel, I would deny all of this. I would pretend that I don't burn up at the sound of your voice and at night I don't try to curl up into my bones and close that gap in my chest.
I'm lost. Your words still linger in my lungs and I can still taste your breath. Some nights when I can't seem to navigate the stars I can still find traces of you on my sheets. I am lost without your guiding hand on my thigh. Part of me wants to run, run, run away just like you did, but my kneecaps are far too weak to sustain any running. So I'll ask you, since you left me so forgotten on the curb, where am I supposed to go?
But I promise to deny this. I promise to keep in the corner so you don't have to be reminded of your mistakes.
Forgive me though if I slip up and "I miss you" comes out all tangled like the sheets we spent the night in. Forgive me for not being able to forget. Forgive me for being so callous.
this piece is actually quite old but i find it relevant and worthy of publishing -- sydney
