This Is What It’s Like To Love You After Her

Mike Monaghan
Mike Monaghan

I look at you and I see her right through your brown eyes
I look at your beautiful face and it’s as if I’m looking at a mirror reflecting her
Your genuine smile, pondering if she’s still the reason behind it
Your gentle body, imagining all the times she looked at it and explored every inch, every curve and every muscle
I look at you and all I see is her.

I listen to you and I hear her
I listen to your voice and it’s as if she’s at the back of each word
In every story, thinking about how many of these includes her
In every song, knowing how many of these remind you of her
In every secret, accepting the fact that I’m not the only one you confessed them to
I listen to you and all I hear is her.

I smell you and I swear I could inhale her scent
In the roses you sent, I smell her
When I lay in bed at night, I smell her
I pull up the covers, I smell her
I wake up in bed next to you, it’s still her fragrance filling up the entire room
I smell you and all I can take in is her.

I touch you and I wonder all the ways she touched you
Your hands, feeling all the ways you held her with the same hands
Your feelings, speculating the ways she felt it too
Your promises, recognizing how you probably made the same promises to her
Your doubts, your fears, questioning how she could possibly made you feel all these
I touch you and I remember those moments she had the chance to touch you in the same spot, in the same place
I touch you and all I feel is her.

I kiss you and I taste her
She’s a lingering taste of bitter gourd
Even poured with water,
She can never be washed away
She’s the ghost you are desperately trying to reach
Because every time you long for my lips to touch yours,
You wish you can taste her

I’m with you and all I can sense is her,
I sense her in every single corner of who you are

Knowing all your greatest moments includes her,
Understanding that almost half of who you are is what she left you with,
She left all possible remnants she could.

That’s why every time I love you,
I don’t really know who I am loving exactly
Everything resonates her.
How I hope I met you earlier, maybe then I’ll have the chance to know who you were without her.

Because now, it’s as if she’s still here
Maybe because she is
It’s as if she’s haunting and living in every portion of your soul
Maybe because she is
It’s as if she never went away,
Maybe because she never really left. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Dian is the author of Catastrophes, a prose and poetry collection exploring living and loving, breaking and mending, falling and rising, losing and surviving. Get in touch with her on Instagram and Twitter.

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