“‘ So how come you don’t have abandonment issues? ‘ I smiled. ‘I just got over those things.’ Two days later, you were just another name in the pile of people who’ve left me. This time, I’ve realised that is getting harder to rinse and repeat. Maybe it’s because I’m dreaming of all the things I’ve loved about you – the soft skin of your shoulders, the warmth of your breath, your fingers moving across my cheeks, tracing, caressing , the world drifting away in your arms. One of your piano songs plays in the background. Sadness fades. Time crumbles. There is nothing wrong with me anymore. Yet then I wake up confused, trying to turn to someone, trying to make sense of this petty void that rises in my chest. In the middle of the night, I’m sure that I’m alone and nobody will ever get me as much as you did, and because of that I will never have a decent sleep again. So the next day and all the days after that I’ll ramble around aimlessly, dark circles under my eyes, into an unforgiving , loveless landscape. My own hands are estranged, my mouth is trembling as I speak. Grief is deconstructing my entire anatomy.”— erin g.
