the way you haunt me

I dream of you.

When summer creeps through my window, slipping between the curtains, and has me tossing and turning, sweat coating me like blood… I dream of you.

When winter forks across my skin, sending me into shivery fits, I dream of you.

Often it is your silhouette. Sometimes coming, more often going.

Often it is your silence, wrapped around my throat. Hanging me. Other times it is words placed in a trebuchet, not designed to be accurate but hitting the mark all the same.

Each one is a reminder of how you set your bed on fire and I woke up burning.

Night 1

The plot twisted like a mountain range road and every page I turned just crumpled between my fingers. Your warmth began to burn and your gentleness soon became a steady hand injecting poison into my veins.

When I close my eyes you are pushing me away and boomeranging me back and then running until all I can see is the sunset blazing around you in an eternity of glory.

Night 15

I wrap myself in ice cold denial every day but at night I am engulfed in crimson flames of memory, choking on the smoke of where did it all go wrong?

Night 105

It has finally hit me just how astray I have been led by your lack of answers. I am surrounded by nothing but nightmares of you. You haunt me in every coffee shop and the space between dusk and dawn, laughing like my slow death is your new favourite comedy show.

Night 210

I have finally reached rock bottom. Face planted with such urgency that I lost a tooth and tasted blood. In my dreams, you wave at me from the cloud cover. During the day, you beam at every camera and dance to every song and I don't even manage to make it out of the haven I have found in my bed.

Night 336

You aren't coming back, but my dreams tell me not to impale myself on that reality. They twist memories into new moments and show me that our time together was always marred by methane, I just couldn't see it at the time.

Night 400

I gouge and claw at the walls around rock-bottom until my hands are bruised and mutilated and look nothing like the ones that once applied your bandages. Darkness brings more moments too similar to old realities and I might not be getting better, but at least I'm trying.

Day 426

I am awake and you are in front of me, and you don’t look so much like a villain here in this light. You look more like the girl who cut off her hand to spite her heart.

You dyed your hair with denial and painted your nails with self-inflicted amnesia. And I don’t tell you the truth that sits on my tongue like a bad taste: you looked better wearing empathy than you do dressed in selfishness.

Instead, I wish you the best and forgive myself for giving my reflection the worst.

Day 427

There is no glorious sunset enveloping you, though I pray there is soon. But there is finally an early morning glow outside my door that I am stepping into. I forgot how delicious warmth feels on my face. I forgot how much sweeter it tastes when I have fought with everything I have to touch it again.

Night 428

I dream of running my hands through the stars. Of dancing with self-confidence and laughing with freedom. I dream of a life where you left me behind and I am okay with it.

Day 428

I wake up to a realty that is the same.