You’re always on my mind. My heart can’t let go, silence becoming an amplifier as it beats out each syllable of your name. There was more of me for you to touch, but sense overrode desperation and pushed you away.
You’ll never read this, will never think of me or long for me the way I ache and cry out for your embrace. I hate the way you’ve made me need you but beg for your return all the same.
You made me feel sympathy for devils that plugged my ears against the words of angels and burned my tongue whenever the very thought of asking for help crossed my mind. I’ve traded away years of my life to dedicate myself to you – was promised paradise, reprieve, and delivered brimstone that burned my lungs and leaves me crumpled and weak, even without you here to witness your handiwork.
I know you’re proud of yourself. My heart, beating out your name, is whispering still, in your voice, promising more.
And worse, I still long to take your hand, even as I still feel the damage, still see the scars.
It’s too late for angels. I want to dance with the devil, kiss her hand. Let you drag me back into those dreams, where at least I wasn’t suffering alone.