I miss him holding me. White blankets. White ceiling. White skin on skin and lips pressed to shoulders. I miss the lockers and my friends and the trees. Honestly I can hardly comprehend what I am saying.
But I know I miss him because it is always on my mind.
I know I hope he sleeps well. Because every night I wish for him to sleep tight even if it means I cannot.
I miss his mother telling me she loves me. Miss Katie and I laying in bed playing soft songs and just talking. Our plans to see the states.
I've been trying to enjoy my life, really. I have. But thoughts of you entertain me; keep holding me back. And my nightly inner battles are really getting to me. If I weren't by the ocean, I'd make myself bleed.
Surely to God this pain won't linger forever? What a line to walk: refusing to forget but scared to remember. I thought when you said you loved me, that meant you would fight. Instead it was you who walked me out into that night.
And I couldn't let go, or my arms would just break. So they tore me from you, with my puffy red face. ...