Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Find You

I asked someone to help me find you,

before I even knew what you looked like,

and then,

suddenly,

like lightning lighting up the sky,

or an abrupt change of direction,

I was staring into your eyes,

realising that I’d found where I was supposed to be.

It was so simple, yet so complicated,

because I was marked,

scarred,

collared by the calling of my trauma.

It howled outside my window,

every night,

around ten PM,

when you would call.

I’d have a conversation with you,

while mocking memories stared with blank boredom from across the room,

pointing at your picture,

slicing their necks with their fingers,

some kind of siren,

maybe a message,

cruel and deceptive.

I’d lose myself in how I would lose you,

so you thought that I was gone,

but I was just fighting monstrous memories,

in the darkness,

hoping the brightness of your eyes would guide me home,

when I was done.

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