miss me yet?
i miss when you were alive. watching golden blood sift through honey veins. feeling heat emanate, creating a halo, a corona, naming you king of all that is and all that will be. i miss the way your hands were gentle on my arms, always careful, like i was an apricot just shy of bruising.
you used to sing. dulcet tones, caught up in the wind that you insisted was your friend. when i looked through your eyes, the grass was greener. the sky seemed infinite, and the horizon was something unable to be contained.
you held the world in your hands, the hands that would craft and create, shape something new, something worthwhile. i can tell you now, because you're not here to listen, i always wished you would put those hands on me, and shape me too. weave me into something worth your time.
i don't remember how you died. maybe you didn't - maybe you're still here, just so faded out and grey you match the rest of the concrete. for you, that would be a fate worse than death. i hope you died.
i don't even remember you fading, don't remember you dulling. one day, you were there in all your hyper-colour glory, and the next, the motes in the sun were just dust - no longer fairies.
i miss you. i hate you for leaving and i hate myself for letting it happen. if i saw you again i do not know what i would do with myself, what i would do to myself - who i am now is who has been built on the foundations of your absence.
i miss you, i want you back. i don't remember how you died, and it's all i can think of anymore. outside, it is raining. wherever you are, i am sure it's because you've swallowed the sun whole.