There’s something about fall that reminds me of you. As the leaves change from shades of green to yellow, brown, and red, images of our time together flash through my head. The shorter days just leave me lonelier during the night, and the cool autumn breeze reminds of your chilling touch.
Months have passed since we last connected, yet I often wonder how you are. I’ll never forget the way you stroked me softly, and I can’t shake the way my body tingled every time that we held hands. I keep replaying the day I said goodbye, wondering why I let you go.
Although I now know that the safety of your arms was always just an illusion, I still crave your touch. I miss the way your hands lightly caressed my body, yet I know that living in the past will never help me move on.
I hate to admit it (and never will out loud), but maybe I miss you.
Everyone says our relationship brought out the worst in me. Naturally, I tell myself that I’m better off without you as I trace the remnants of our forbidden forays all along my body. And every time I think of you, all I see is crimson red.
In so many ways, our love affair was toxic and entirely unsafe. When I thought I had reached my limit, you pushed me to risk so much more. I thought you’d be my dirty secret and we could keep our encounters under wraps. But by the time we separated, I wore the signs of our affection up and down my arms.
Yet for some reason I can’t help the way I long for you when the world becomes too much. After all, you stayed by my side through some of my darkest days. When I felt broken and alone, you comforted me in ways nobody else could. You remained calm and collected in moments of crisis and helped me cope with the storm inside.
So maybe I miss you… so what?
As my life begins to crumble once again, I find myself longing for your touch once more. My skin screams for just one more stroke from your jagged but loving hands. As I lie awake in an empty bed, I cry out for you.
But I know that if I let you back into my home or even my heart, I’ll never make it out alive. Our love is like the perfect storm and I always end up being the one left in the wake of its destruction. I know that I crave you like a drug, and once I start, I’ll never stop until I overdose.
The fact of the matter is that I can miss you but remain without you for the rest of time. I thought that I could control you, but I’ve since learned that you drive me to feel insane. I get itches that only you can scratch, but only you cause them as well.
So, sure, maybe I miss you now, and maybe I always will. And although I maybe miss you, separated we will remain.