I Don’t Miss You

At this point I’m pretty fed up with the English language because it is full of nothing but understatements, and these shortcomings can’t even begin explain my feelings towards anything. I say that I miss you, because that’s the closest phrase there is to this anguish. But really it’s more than that. So much more than that. You miss the bus, you miss a homework assignment, you miss your great aunt Kathy that died when you were four, whom you didn’t get to know very well. The same phrase can never begin to amount for the pain I feel in my chest when you’re gone. Your absence brings with it an inexplicable agony that my heart can’t overcome. Every heartbeat feels like an attempt to tear itself from the inside out, like my heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest to find its way back to you, because my stubborn feet refuse. On the drive home this afternoon, my throat began to constrict, my vision was blurry, and my head started spinning, because all the roads resembled the ones we used to drive on back when you were here and I was whole. I miss you doesn’t communicate how my heart beats your name or how every goddamn thought I have is etched with your face and those cigarette stained promises we made two months ago. I don’t miss you. You’re missing from me. And it’s eating me alive.

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About savannahlyn

I write to articulate what my tongue cannot
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