March 11, 2015

I Miss You…


frames mirror junk mess

It started with the strike of a single match. We were engulfed in flames, a raging inferno.

The fire flickers too hot for two.

So, now I’ve been left to burn alone, while you burned out. I’m too afraid to let the spark die, for then I will be alone in our darkness.

Charred ashes of what once was.

You starved me of you then fed me a poisonous gas to fuel the fire. It simmers and calms then ferociously glows.

I miss you.

Your absence bites at me. It won’t let go. It gnaws at my flesh, chews it up so I ache with a void that never leaves.

Your voice inside me, in my head, in my veins, it frantically beats at my pulse. It resounds loudly, high-pitched screeching straight through me. Then it loops and circles again.

I feel you, I smell you I can taste you everywhere.

I am never alone. In our favourite cafe, by the storm ridden shore, in the grass, which is now never green.

And I miss you.

We’re enclosed in an envelope, sealed in what I once called my body. I am afraid to tear at it. I don’t want to open the letter that‘s folded within.

It is the story of us. This fairy tale no longer reads happy ever after.

Though, I have memories, the real and the deluded.

In them I dream, I’m with you, I fantasize, I wake, I dream then I sleep.

And so. Now. I miss you more.

You seduced my mind, you corrupted it all and then you surrendered it. It was not of your use. You wanted more than one can give.

You offered nothing and I willingly accepted. You kept you to yourself, occasionally offering glimpses, though, retreating just as fast. You gave me your time, I guess. Precious moments the clock will refuse to return.

I recognize you in chaos and insanity.

So I keep you locked away in my mind. A chest filled with worthless treasure, broken promises and loaded lies.

A tragic story of love.

Hidden far from the world.

Your skin next to mine was the only thing that made sense in the end.

Return, so I can touch you once more.

Then you can leave.

And continue to be my muse.



 Just For One Moment, Let Me Hold Your Pain.


Author: Alex Sandra Myles 

Editor: Renée Picard 

Image: Ms Sara Kelly at Flickr 

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