The loss of Sunshine darkens my soul.

The defeat of Hope, once more, is crushing.

Left alone in a bleak world, I drag myself in and out of bed.

Lying in the sheets, aware of the coldness, left without arms to hold me, I reach for what was.

Tears fall as I stand in my empty kitchen. I hear the echo of food and conversation.

I am too much and not enough at the same time. A risk, that is best not taken.

I close my eyes and feel the familiar onslaught of heartache and loneliness.

My love for you swirls around my heart, jabbing, and bruising. And I miss you.

I feel your soul pull on mine.

I want to soothe and hold all the parts of you.

And it’s your kiss. Only one brush of your lips on mine makes my heart lose its balance, and I fall for you every time.

You left, leaving a mark on my soul and a hole in my heart.

And now you say you are suffering.

Being without me.

You chose this path.

You made a clear and conscious decision to live without me.

Don’t compare your heartache to mine.

Suffering is the natural consequence of denying your heart.

You made me defenseless against the pain when you said you loved me and made me believe you.

I am left with no choice in my suffering.

You spoke the words.  They said who you want to be.

You showed me your actions. That’s who you really are.

With my heart guarded but open, I allowed you in, believing in new possibilities and in love.

One more time.

But you walked away, holding your fear as a shield.

In all the years it took you to step into the light, you didn’t grow, you hid.

You told me who you wanted to be but showed me who you really are.

Now my heart is closed for good.

The clouds return, the brief appearance of Sunshine fading away.

I am cold and broken as the Spring snow settles into my soul and covers me.

My bones are tired. 

I am tired.

I curse the Spring.

The clouds, the snow, the frozen mud. 

The mud is hard and unmoving. Not the kind that smells of Earth and flows thickly in my hands and covers my boots. Dead, lifeless dirt.

Cold and broken, I lay in a pile. My soul is frigid and my heart is hurting.

I fear I will never see the Sunshine again.

I sit in silence and feel you go through me.

Pushing your way in, cracking my bones open to cradle my beating heart.

The pain paralyzes me, and I can’t breathe.

The searing loss of you assaults my entire being.

You are going through me in waves and falling down my spine.

Electrifying my hair, the same as when your fingers lingered on my strands as you buried your face in my neck to inhale my scent so you could carry it with you.

I sit in my silence absorbing the pain and letting my tears stream down my face, blurring my vision, forcing my eyes to close. 

I catch my breath as I see your face. I settle into the waves and feel it all.

The pain and memories of you are all I have left.

You won’t forget me.

The wreckage I leave behind in your heart and soul is proof of a love that burned bright.

You will never be the same. And likely, you will never recover.

Nor will you let yourself.

Take the pieces of me and put them in a box if you must.

But when you find yourself peeking inside that box, searching for me, don’t be surprised at the visceral reaction your memories of me bring.

Feel it all again. Over and over.

Take those memories and endure the gut punch they bring,

Endure it because I want you to remember.

I want you to remember that I loved you completely, without reservation, and for who you are. Remember,  you left me and shattered my heart into a million pieces. Remember, you chose your path.

So let the memory of me burn a hole through your heart again.

It will be worth the pain of boxing me back up to feel my love one more time, even if only in your memory.

I am torn.

Inside out, I can feel the pulling.

I am churning and spinning with wild hair and wild eyes.

My panic is rising.

I’m holding on too tightly because letting go is terrifying. 

The pain is deep within.

My heart will explode. Proof of its brokenness splattering against the wall. Spraying pieces of my being violently onto the floor. Pulling all my churning insides out. Torn from me.

The pain is deep.

My longing is trapped inside walls formed in my brain.

I envision a tiny door, an escape hatch.

The other side of the door brings Sunshine. I can see the light peeking through the cracks.

Getting there would be slow. I have to wade through the mud. 

I am being pulled.

But my brokenness begs me to stay in this place and hold onto the pieces left for a little bit longer.  

I am being pulled.

I am torn.