Missing You by Devin Alessi

WARNING: graphic content

The following story contains graphic imagery, mentioning blood and bruises. If you or anyone you know is experiencing depression or suicidal thoughts, please seek help from Ms. Rivers or any other trusted adult, or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255. To learn more about warning signs, and what to do in a crisis situation visit suicidepreventionlifeline.org

MISSING YOU.

February 26th, 2019, at 2:05 PM

 

missing you used to be a nuclear war in my chest cavity

the nightmare where you’re falling

but you don’t wake up before you hit the ground.

it was the static on the tv filling my brain

black and white flickering

no one home.

missing you was like a fist around my throat

tight, squeezing, until there were bruises beneath my jawline

and dark circles under my eyes.

it was skin splitting under the showerhead, 

watery blood running rivers down legs.

like one of my eyes was cut out of my head

and half the world was dark, bloody and soaked with tears.

 

missing you now is enjoying the rainfall from your window

before drowning in a monsoon.

it’s being afraid to go to sleep because sometimes

I swear I can hear you breathing next to me

in the pitch-black room.

missing you is smiling in my dreams 

because that is the only place you still exist to me

and waking up as if my whole life 

was just a bad experience of deja vu.

i hear the world from underwater now

faded, fuzzy, and in black and white.

missing you is the ending of a sad movie

yet the melancholy never goes away.

 

one day I pray that I’ll throw this necklace out.

that i won’t grow nauseous every time someone uses the same

laundry detergent as you.

 

On that day, missing you will be like hearing that someone died on the news

i will frown and think on it for a bit, maybe a moment or two,

and then i’ll remember what I was doing

and i’ll forget.

 

i hope that the way i miss you

will be like a forgotten memory, years from now.

like remembering for a moment

the first time i ever had a bath

or cried on the bathroom floor.

it will be like a cold spot in a room

where i question if i’ve ever felt this before

or if the story my cousin told me about ghosts

causing the room to grow cold is true

and i’ll shrug and walk away

the memory of missing you just a spirit in the wind

 

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