You’re all I want

Photo by Wyron A on Unsplash

I’m so scared. 
Life chokes me like a hand round my neck, it has me up against the wall whispering in my ear: “You will be homeless. You will be alone. You will lose your child. All your friends will disown you, no-one will help you and you’ll die on the streets, knowing that you failed.”

All these thoughts flash through my mind and still, inexorably, like a tiny shoot turning towards the light, I turn towards you.

Last night I dreamed of you, your arms round me and the sweet gentleness of your voice and touch soothing me into calmness, at long last. You miss me, I woke up thinking. You do miss me.

In the dream I twined my fingers through your hair and pulled slightly, in the way you liked, the way that used to make you close your eyes and bite your lip.

I remember the velvety softness of the skin on the back of your neck, the scatter of freckles, the way your warm body would smell, cloying, yet like home.

When I buried my nose in your clothing and inhaled, I seemed to see the future in which you were no longer mine and the tang of it hung around you, was part of your scent.

I remember this — how I knew we wouldn’t last, and I also remember how soft your lips were when I kissed you, and your limpid amazing eyes that made the words catch in my throat.

I wish you were here. I want to say that I miss you, I miss you. When we hugged goodbye the last time I saw you, I said ‘I’ll miss you” and you sobbed and replied “Every fucking day of my life” — I want you to know that I remember that, will remember it to my dying day. Even as I tell myself “She’s probably forgotten that now. She probably doesn’t feel that way anyone.” I still close my eyes and hear the words, the way your face looked when you said it, the way I believed you.

I miss you so much.

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