His touch was a transitory evocation of summer days. You could almost smell the promise of heat and passion. As the winter coldness kisses my face, I think of his breath like the summer breeze whipping salt unto my skin.
To this day, 14 months and 2,756 miles away, no one makes me ache like you.
My body revolts against itself just so it could miss you. Tag that person you’re missing right now. #officiallymissingyou
They say it takes 21 days
to break a bad habit, yet
here I am, on day 202, my
mind and my heart are still
convinced that I need you.
202 days since I told you to
stay away from me, and I’ve
regretted it every single day.
202 accounts of whiplash,
of missing you like oxygen.
202 days of wishing I’ve never
had you. Then I wouldn’t be
reminded of you every time
I touch someone else.
I have made a sport out of confusing
the chronology of discovering you,
forgiving you, anticipating you,
and forgetting you. I have to accept
the fact that it’s over, and it’s time to
stop dragging your shadow like a
carcass around my shoulders,
thinking you’re still with me,
when you’re just a living memory,
still attached, umbilical.