three.

A story.

Some years ago she walked with the swagger of youth towards her local pub. She sat and drank pints of lager, then rum and ginger. She did this when the mood hit her. She sat with people who talked about things that didn’t really matter. That was okay. Some years ago, on a night like this she met him. He leant on the bar, foot tucked behind ankle. He sat with her and everyone else disappeared. Because something like joy or peace or understanding sat between them. They talked and listened. Little smoke stories that could have only been caught by each other. Sucked in. Breathed in. Turning into one of those memories that you know you must remember. Around them the chaos of the world turned into black ink. Time moved on. Like time does. She sped through country lanes to wrap herself around him. He passed her his story and she held it close. He played her music that turned her skin into velvet. They breathed in the sun. They danced in the rain. She drove him and her sister to Devon. They sang as they poured through shallow sun roads. She handed him a slice of her. And on. They picked up the keys to their flat. He told her ‘forever and a day’. She told it back. They ate Chinese food on the floor. He kissed her on the forehead. They rushed home after their days. They held each other. They kept their demons in a little black box. They drove to the Lake District and danced on water. They came home to their flat. And on. Their demons escaped and the chaos that had turned black melted into mud. Their feet got stuck. Together they tried to drag themselves out of fear. He couldn’t get out. They had swallowed him whole. Out of her lungs poured screams of ‘no.’ Her heart broke. She sat alone on a bench in that park by that flat. Alone she asked him to hold her hand. Alone she told him to take her home. In the cold she missed him. She asked him where he was. She wanted to burn the world.

Three years on. She wants to throw chairs through windows. She lets red hot breaths beat under her skin. It hurts her. Because everyday she misses him. Today she misses him. She wishes for a different ending to her story. 

Time does not take away the pain. It just teaches you how to live with it. The same angry. The same missing. The same questions. The same doubt. It's just locked away. In that girl, that was me. 

And I miss you.

And I love you.