After weeks of hearing nothing about you except that you met your temporary fix in a club, I finally heard something. Surprise. You were spotted by the seafront today, alone and looking miserable. The same seafront where I kissed you as the sun kissed the sea. The same seafront where you carried me over the pebbles because I was drunk in stiletto booties. The same seafront that captured my heart and has become the happy place in the forefront of my mind.
And at first, I was elated hearing that you were miserable – it proved that everything I’ve been feeling secondhand has been right and I’m not carrying this alone. But now, I’m gutted. Gutted is the wrong word. Melancholy, maybe? Because what does it say about me – the girl whose heart you crumpled in your fist like an origami crane – that I don’t want you to be upset?
I mean, I do. I want you to know that giving me up was a mistake. I want you to feel what it feels to miss me – do you feel like someone has stolen your left side of your body and is just walking around with it? Does it feel hollow? I’ve cradled – literally cradled – heavy feelings from you before. I’ve shouldered the pain so that you wouldn’t have to feel it and it’s not something I can handle. So in that sense, I’m happy you’re feeling this. I’m thrilled that my absence is affecting you. But I don’t want to hurt you. I never have. It’s why I never chewed you up and spat you out.
The solution to this, my dear, is so simple that I can’t believe you haven’t thought of it yet. But my demons need to be caged before I can even think about adding yours to the mix. And you need to, if you can’t cage yours, at least leash them and get them under some form of control.
I could get lost in the ocean in your eyes. Don’t lose me in the actual ocean in front of you. Because I promise you, you’re not going to.