On a breakup Iāve been going through lately. I needed somewhere to put this. Enjoy! I might add to it later.
I slowly and unknowingly developed a Dr Pepper habit since the last time we saw each other.
The pain becomes acute, especially when strangers are nice to me.
Itās weird how grief wears your face now. I felt you when I felt sadness for the people of Iran when we dropped the bombs. I felt you when an acquaintance died. I felt you when I dropped my favorite mug and thatās when I realized Iāve made you into something you are not.
When I see you in a year, like I promised I would when I said goodbye, Iām going to ask you where you found your hot chocolate recipe and let you know that I use it every winter. And sometimes I put too much cayane pepper in it so I keep the memory alive. You were always so sweet to me.
You didnāt fight for me when I was leaving. You donāt even fight for yourself most of the time I donāt know why I thought Iād be any different. Not talking to you has been the hardest thing Ive ever done.
Itās easy to see: I wanted to turn you into poetryā into the garden, sky and water trickling over rocks so that you could soothe me even in your absence. You just wanted to turn me to dust. Itās easier to forget the dust. Your body will linger in the folds of my mind, tucked into the folds of grass.
I think I did the right thing but the right thing will now haunt these halls. Although, I know you never agreed to be a ghost in the walls of my life, there you will stay, locked in the attic like a wife I am ashamed about. I will trick another lover, they wonāt know you are trapped where you cannot be seen.
We need to name it something else for when pain is beautiful.
Iām not stalking your Spotify. Iām not stalking your Spotify. Iām not stalking your Spotify. Iām not stalking your Spotify. Iām not stalking your Spotify. Iām not stalking your Spotify.
I look for you in everything. I always have.
Maybe I donāt miss him, I just miss the stability, familiarity, and intimacy. :/ and I can get that in someone else, just give it time.
It does not get easier, but grief becomes satiated the more I dwell. The hunger comes back 2 fold.
Grief is a tall man with a dark beard and a top hat Seem to be covered in shroud. His tongue feels like sandpaper and his skin is young, but patchy. Heās aggressive when he kisses me, and sometimes I am scared of what he can do. But itās always the same, he caresses my face with the back of his hand, I can feel his long nails. He cradles me head as he lays me down to do what he came here for.
Holding on will be the death of me but I can never figure out why causing myself pain feels so good. I donāt know how you can ignore me so totally without burning and ripping your skin off. Iām drinking more Dr. Pepper. Grief now visits me nightly. I am sore, I am burning for you.