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When I Miss You

12:41 AM

By Jordan AvisPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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6:31 am

I wake in the morning, after endless hours of revisiting your smile and think,

This is it. I will never miss you more than I do right now.

I feel hands against my chest and push your touch from my mind.

8:02 am

I pull my car door shut behind me and carefully place my keys in the ignition. The engine starts and within minutes I am rushing through trees, and past rivers, dancing along the old curved road I’ve known for far too long.

Subconsciously, my hand moves to the radio.

A familiar song starts and I am swaying, swaying, and suddenly I’m no longer on a road, I’m standing in a gymnasium, and you are standing beside me. The speakers are softly singing of violins, and piano, and youth, and you reach out to me and I take your hand and we are spinning, spinning, smiling, laughing, and you look at me.

Someone touches my chest again. They sprinkle drops of water on my cheeks. I am back in my car.

My hands shake against the wheel and I miss the way yours were always so steady.

9:23 am

The air is still laced with ice and I pull your jacket tighter across my shoulders. I walk briskly past telephone poles and nameless, singular people. The sidewalks bare the same cracks they did the first time I was introduced to this street, 3 years ago. I’ve memorized their pattern.

I skip every one.

Out of the side of my eye, I spot the short frame of a thin, wooden structure and stop. The bench appears the same as when we’d sat on it last, crowded by gray trees, blanketed by the shade. I’d forgotten it was there.

The bench holds me in its arms once more as I trace my fingertips along its back, searching. Our initials are still there, untouched by the changing of the times.

Once more, I feel palms placed against my chest and water is being brushed down my face in quick strokes. Someone takes my hand, feeling the carved letters through my skin. Although the touch is familiar, it is not yours.

I pull away and comfort my legs until they’ll move. I’ve never missed you this much.

1:14 pm

The cafe is always busy at this time, lunch, when lifelong hunger can be ceased, stomachs filled, ending the dull ache we so often feel, for a little while, at least. I sit alone, at the smallest table in the far left, directly next to the window overlooking the street.

This was your favourite place.

I’d always known your answer, but I’d made a habit of asking where you’d like to sit anyway. People change after all. And you’d put your arm around my waist, and lead me over to this wooden, circular table, a rose delicately placed in the center.

Cars fascinated you. You’d watch them through the window, darting past like dinky toys, and I watch you. You’d sit there for hours, yelling out years and models, like a little kid. Once, I believed it was the vehicle itself, holding you by the strings. I now realize it was the motion.

You are always moving.

My chest heaves under the weight of a worn palm and I wish people would stop spilling their drinks. The grip on my hand grows stronger and the foot resting on my knee can’t stop the shaking. I sip my coffee, what else can I do?

I miss you the most sitting at this table.

5:25 pm

My stomach complains and I gather my things and head for the door. She stops me. He saw me when she drove past the bench. She saw the brushstrokes beneath my eyes. She saw the hand restraining my own. She saw me in the cafe. She saw the palm against my chest. She saw how my knees shook. Am I okay?

I am fine. I am the best I’ve been in three years. Someone is breathing on the back of my neck.

She asks me if I miss you. I tell her I don’t.

I don’t.

I do.

11:56 pm

I don’t know how long I’ve been laying here.

I can’t sleep.

I roll to my right.

For a moment, we are face to face. Your sky-like eyes gaze with comfort into mine. Your head rests on my pillow. Your hand rests on my heart. For a second, you are mine again. I have always been yours. You are smiling. I am smiling.

And then you are gone.

And suddenly the weight on my chest is too much and I’m gasping for air. The water, once spilled on my cheeks, pour down my face in waves and ends in an ocean that I quickly begin to drown in. I squeeze someone else’s fingers but the only sound I hear is my own struggle and the pain is mine to be felt. The shaking in my legs starts an earthquake in my head, and my ears are filled with the screaming on my neck.

11:57 pm

I still love you. I love you more and more every time I attempt to pry your memories from my body.

11:58 pm

But I’m beginning to believe they’ll forever be a part of me, stuck in my cracks like rusted nails.

11:59 pm

And if you showed up right now, knocked on my door, I would open it. And if you took one look at me and told me you’re not sorry for a thing you’ve done, I would drop to my knees and beg for your forgiveness.

For what, you would ask?

For wanting too much. For caring more than I should. For needing you, even after you stopped needing me.

And if you turned around and walked right back out that door, I would take my scissors and cut off every part of me you ever touched. Because that’s what it felt like the first time you left too.

12:00 am

This is when I miss you.

j.a

heartbreak
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