i. i found myself leaving that sacred land and with that simple gesture? i found my heart was lighter, but it was by no means a relief; it was that precarious heavy lightness in which you can no longer discern if you are complete or not. only to discover, achingly enough, that you are not for the first time since you left that piece behind. ii. i didn't realize what was missing, at least not directly so -- the awareness of as much lay within the old, dark caverns of my mind. places i dare not go with any regularity. iii. it is then, of course, when i brave that labyrinthine set of crevices that i see bright blue hues and gold-spun hair. it is then that his clever voice echoes across the mindfields, bouncing off empty spaces that were once whole, once filled. iv. it's been said that separation is agonizing and to those people, i wonder if they have truly experienced the sensation of turning your back on the first good thing you'd had in forever. but guilt does ugly things, it mars what good you see in yourself -- if there was even any to start. because he was all the good in you there was and like a fool, you walked away. you walked away because you're selfish and that covers your flesh in grime. v. your guilt is still a ruinous thing, all consuming, as you settled your feet in the dirt of the edges of his new existence without you. you watch and you ache more, but his pain and suffering is something you deserve to witness because you betrayed him. you lost your right to sanity, you lost your right to look the other way. the bitter metallic of your own blood spills in from where your teeth carve a line into your lip because squeezing shut your eyes is a cop out and he deserves better. vi. no one knows him like you do, no one ever will. there is no other soul who in that moment saw a man giving up, perhaps that ghost saw it in his eyes. but you? no, you saw a man who thought he had nothing left, no one left and still you never stepped forward; still you never prevented those ashes. you resent the one who took him from you and yet all you see is razorwire in your own hands, you feel his hand reaching for that one last connection never to be had. and something is dead inside you now, but you've no right to as much. it's not you who died, its that piece of your heart that you let die because you're stupid and terrified. vii. even now when you have him back, you fight not to shy away because how do you deserve this beautiful soul? how do you deserve to have those ocean eyes and golden hair back? you don't. he forgives you, he feels less alone, but all you taste is blood and all you see is ash on your hands.
the stages of missing a piece of your heart, ( r.x )
