I miss the feeling
of you breaking my heart
and calling it “art”.
The way its fragments
splintered
tore me apart
and the way you marveled
at something
so bloody and carnal.
I miss you healing me
with the same hands
that beat me,
swaddled me
in gauze
and misery.
I miss the feeling
of your arms around me,
the way they’d squeeze
the life out of me
until I fell asleep.
I miss the way
you’d cradle my face
and scream my name
like I was to blame
for all your mistakes.
Like screaming at me
would tame
your insecurity
because you loved
the way I’d shrink.
I miss shrinking
and watching you grow taller
hoping the smaller
I shrunk,
the less you’d see of me.
I miss the feeling
of your diluted love
sitting cold
in my empty stomach
because nothing
could ever fill me
quite like that could.
Like a crystal vase
waiting for bouquets
to permeate
the empty space
inside of it,
only to wait
in vain
under blankets
of dust.
I miss the way
your hate
used to make me feel
deserving of something –
something better.
If I missed you
the way I should,
I wouldn’t miss you
at all.
"Diluted Love" can be found in my book, Love Like a Storm on Amazon. Buy it here.
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