there is a hole inside of my chest. gaping; wide open. i cover it with skin and bones, but it is not closed over. it has not healed. its a place full of missing pieces. pieces of myself that have gone away. their memories, like whispers, brush across my skin. carried by the gentle breeze of a 'just so' sunday evening, when the sky is burning orange and everything looks golden. i can't help but shiver, remembering, feeling, seeing, smelling, tasting these memories so vividly that sometimes i turn to look behind me because i am sure that 'you' are there.
i dream a lot, of faces that i miss. friends and lovers that ive spent too much or too little time loving. too much or too little time mourning. they find a new home with me when i sleep. in a sense they are never really gone. and this makes it hard to tell if that's better or worse. perhaps forgetting would hurt less, but would it change me somehow? would the impact of all of these be erased from me, if their ghosts were to go?
ive given my heart away, more than most. a piece here. a piece there. so many pieces of myself feel scattered. sometimes those pieces call to me, and i ache for them. i long to bring them back to myself. to fill the hole. to quiet the phantoms that remind me what ive lost.
the transition from spring to summer is the most haunting time. the time when i remember all my losses and wonder if it could ever be any different. the time when i wish i had done things different, at least i think i wish i had, but then i ask myself if i really mean that...and i know, most often, the answer is no. how could it be? there are bridges burned and bridges crossed, sometimes to places where i can not follow while in this life. and other places i would not want to. paths id rather not explore for fear of where they'd lead; others for fear of where they wouldn't. regardless of what i wouldnt change, it aches the same, either way.
- - and now i'll miss you, too. always. - -
xo.
m.
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