like losing limbs only not really.
like putting your soul into that limb and for it to be without you.
Is it loss where he lingers in the cigarette smoke or everyone else’s snores?
is it a tease in the unease I’m feeling?
like losing your sight. How can you still see beauty in the world when you can see nothing but darkness?
How can you know where to go when you see nothing but darkness?
It’s like god turned off the sun and
all the angels are mourning
all the demons are mourning
all the humans are mourning
All I am is mourning
They say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all
I wonder if they understand the ache of a heart beating its way out of your chest screaming for another.
I wonder if they understand the injustice of a heart trapped within the bars of its ribcage
I wonder if they realize that it’s like being in a coffin six feet under, yet feeling every maggot that feeds off you, yet hearing the grieves of others and never fully understanding its magnitude, yet feeling rotten without them.
love and loss can be synonyms to the beginning and end. A journey.
The beginning of vulnerability,
of the expanding, no- The breaking open of the ribcage for it to spill out everything vile and beautiful to the heinous ending of never getting them back.
its a journey with no end, or rather a journey that ends with happily never after
cause you can smile. sure.
you can burst out laughing.
you can even fall in love again
you can get married and have children. be successful.
but you can never be whole again
It’s called phantom limb syndrome. It’s not there, but it still haunts you. it’s not there, yet it is.
An itch you can’t scratch.
Your own fingerprints, your identity is gone.
The craving for everything you hated like burning
your fingers on the stove
or having them stuck to a door.
the temporary pins and needles.
Like his passive aggressiveness when he ignores, my sorries and apologies, like his continuous sweating that transfers when he hugs me, like his rude attitude and the start of a new dispute.
you miss that.
It is not a matter of accepting he is gone.
it is not a matter of moving on.
its that piece of your soul you gave that he never gave back.
You can’t once again give what you no longer have.
You can’t tear him out of the emptiness in your heart.
How can you let go of what is no longer there?
How can you ignore him when he is not in your bed, yet you still feel his breath on the back of your neck?
He is no longer there yet continues to haunt you. he is your phantom limb syndrome.
I’ve collaborated with a fellow writer Shami to produce this. It was a lot of fun! I didn’t expect to end up the way it did but I love the result.
Alshami_h on Instagram to contact him.