take whatever you're giving
Wine soothes nothing. There is a vacancy that lives inside me, something that cannot be filled. My mind rushes back to the night where he grabbed my face desperately as we were fighting, and there were tears in his eyes when he said, “I want to marry you.” I slipped him a look of annoyance. I have heard this before I wanted to say. LIAR, I wanted to dance across my lips but his desperation was real for I knew he felt this way before he even voiced it. There were brushes of annoyance those weeks we were together, which was to be expected and our arguments were loud and obnoxious my sarcasm causing stupidity to bounce from his lips. The time I left him sitting on my couch and walked outside sitting down on the small step to my door lingers in the back of my mind as when we talked about this later he admitted to worrying I was going to break up with him, and the idea had made him want to die. I did not expect him to follow, in fact I desired for him to stay put until I could gather myself. Eventually he came and sat beside me, talking to me in a whisper as if I were some fragile creature that might break even if he has admitted I am some strange, unique woman that can look fragile but be so much more.
I remember the scratches on his back after we’d made love for the last time. I laughed at their imprints, showing them to him in the mirror as he twisted his back to see his skin brown from the sun. There were nights where we did not make love at all for the impending doom of his departed hung heavy in my heart. I would try to push him away in my mind, body, spirit, and heart but the next night I would desire him more than the night before, push him onto the bed and bite his lips like some ravenous animal. I am always hungry for him whether he is he or not. My everything misses him. The initial shock has worn off since I have gotten used to sleeping alone again, and my sheets are proof of this as they always end up looking as if a tornado has hit them. I have nightmares some nights but I have learned how to block them out when I awake, although I imagine this isn’t healthy at all. He calls and emails when he can, which is often. I wonder sometimes if when he returns (if he returns is part of my nightmares for he cannot tell me anything now) whether or not I will be able to get over this trauma quickly enough to bask in his return. I worry I will be so traumatized I will not know how to behave with him, and we will be strangers. I do not bounce back well. I do not understand why the news can talk about his ship so frequently but he cannot tell me anything.
I remember the scratches on his back after we’d made love for the last time. I laughed at their imprints, showing them to him in the mirror as he twisted his back to see his skin brown from the sun. There were nights where we did not make love at all for the impending doom of his departed hung heavy in my heart. I would try to push him away in my mind, body, spirit, and heart but the next night I would desire him more than the night before, push him onto the bed and bite his lips like some ravenous animal. I am always hungry for him whether he is he or not. My everything misses him. The initial shock has worn off since I have gotten used to sleeping alone again, and my sheets are proof of this as they always end up looking as if a tornado has hit them. I have nightmares some nights but I have learned how to block them out when I awake, although I imagine this isn’t healthy at all. He calls and emails when he can, which is often. I wonder sometimes if when he returns (if he returns is part of my nightmares for he cannot tell me anything now) whether or not I will be able to get over this trauma quickly enough to bask in his return. I worry I will be so traumatized I will not know how to behave with him, and we will be strangers. I do not bounce back well. I do not understand why the news can talk about his ship so frequently but he cannot tell me anything.