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It Never Did

The Aftermath of a Storm That Never Came

By Elif BorPublished 7 years ago 2 min read
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I remember slumping on my bed

Staring off into stale air

Callous

Creased brows

Kind of numb

Thinking, "Any day now it'll come."

I tried to be porous, convinced that

Vulnerability would invite one helluva storm

And purge the last of this poison

"You just need to have one really good cry," a friend told me once

"One good, hard cry so you never cry about it again."

So I was patient

I felt the radiating sadness still

And curling up alone at night felt alien still

But nothing inside me would stir

Even as I replayed the night we crumbled

The icy glaze in his previously kind eyes

I relived waking to a wall in his stead

The sickening ache in my heart that followed

And yet

I felt nothing close to a storm

Not even a ripple

I should have been reeling to assaulting flashbacks of his warmth and tenderness and tongue that I could never taste again

And I should have trembled with a paroxysm of fiery spite for all his wrongdoings that led us here

And I should have screamed

I should have screamed to drown out the nostalgia of his touch and his voice and the way the left corner of his mouth curled higher than his right when he smiled- or was it his right that curled higher?

I should have wanted to die in those fleeting minutes when I should have taken in, really taken in, that we were finished and there was nothing left but rubble after nearly three years of intimate looks and tangled skin

I should have had my one, really good cry

But instead I sat there, slumping on my bed

Staring off into stale air

Callous

Creased brows

Kind of numb

Thinking, "Any day now it'll come."

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Elif Bor

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