Her Haunting Absence

I miss her, more than ever; I couldn’t sleep last night, so I stared at the black rimmed outline that diagonally emerged perfectly around twelve digit numbers, and that thin streak that ticked ever so fast, like it had somewhere to go, like it had somewhere to be.  But it always returned, it always started from where it originated. Like a meaningless routine with no outcome, pointlessly revolving around her. It was always about her. Her scent gushed right through my nostrils, and I could smell her everywhere I went. That’s how it always was. It’s how it will always be. She was a beautiful person; her flawless golden hair, always tied up neatly, ran down her back flowing endlessly. When you were with her, you were beautiful. And when you’re a beautiful individual, you only see beauty. And since she wasn’t here, I didn’t see beauty. I saw the world drenched in reality, and it made me miss her even more. I’ve never felt this lonely before, I took for granted everything, including her gallantly sufficient self. It was my mistake, but no one took me seriously, even though I was there. I witnessed it. The car, the robotically designed car seats, the colorless air bags, her hair, my heart, the hospital, the grave stone, the tears, my insipid insides overflowing with frustrations, with necessity. Her beautiful face swung by my thoughts everyday, reminding me of her passion, her dream, our dream. But it’s all gone now, and it’s my fault. I left her exactly 102 voice mails, just so I could hear her voice, just so she could hear mine.

You know where to find me
If you ever need me, just look up to they sky
Bow your head and say a prayer.
I’ll always answer. 

I made that up, only because it sounded like something she would say. It sounded like her, I could hear her saying that to me. And I do pray, I pray for her. I pray for us. There’s still an ‘us.’ There always will be. And no senseless cycle of life will ever take that away from me.