You

                For the past couple of weeks I’ve had trouble sleeping and eating. I can’t think straight. My heart ached. My heart ached. My heart ached. So I decided to visit the doctor. A couple of tests here and there then I ended up sitting in his office. He checked the test results and shook his head. What is it? Do I have cancer? Am I dying? I asked. I’m so sorry but I fear it’s much worse than that. He said. He explained my case to me as gentle as possible, I could tell.

I went home, head hung low, and locked myself in my room. This can’t be happening to me. Why me? Why me? Why me? I cursed and thrashed and cursed some more but will this even do me good? Then I remembered you. Your eyes, your hair, your lips. Your smile, your laugh, your voice. Your skin, your hand, your touch. Your eyes, your smile, your touch. It made me smile and I felt like it took a little of the sickness away.

I imagine your hand on mine as we walk barefoot on the beach. I imagine my arms wrap around you in the cinema. I imagine your breath on my cheek. I imagine your laugh in the air. I imagine your smell on my sheets. I imagine your taste on my lips. I imagine. I imagine. I imagine.

And in every thought of you I thought I was getting better, but I wasn’t. My soul ached even more. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t act. I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t smile. I could no longer smile. What’s happening to me. It’s the sickness.

Then I remembered you. I remembered you. I remembered you. How you talked to me endlessly every night. How you asked me how my day was. How you told me you were thinking of me. How you listened to me. How you laughed at my jokes. How you told me you were happy. How you asked me why I was sad. How you asked me if I was tired. Was I tired? Was I tired? Was I tired?

More thoughts of you. Of you. Of you. Of no one else but you. How you left without saying anything. How you made me wait. How you made me fall. How you came back. How you came back but things didn’t come back. How you acted ignorant. How you acted like nothing happened. How you acted like there was nothing. How you acted like we were nothing. How you acted like I was nothing.

It no longer helped me, it just fed the pain; nurtured it into a full grown monster. But I am a little masochist so I kept thinking of you. I’d rather have memories of you that bring pain than to have no memories of you at all, now that would be a much more unbearable pain. For you are nothing but pain. Pain. Pain. Sweet dreadful pain.

As I crumpled myself into a piece of paper, a little voice in my head said. You’ve got to accept it and try to live with the pain because it never really goes away. It never goes away. It never goes. It never does. So I told myself. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. But I will never be sick of you. Maybe we’re the two lines that make up intersecting lines; destined to meet but fated to separate. Destined to smile but fated to cry. Destined to live but fated to die. What if our role in each other’s life was to touch but never really feel.  To go and not come back. To move and never stop. To give love and not return.

For the past couple of weeks I’ve had trouble sleeping and eating. I can’t think straight. My heart ached. My heart ached. My heart ached. So I decided to get help. A couple of tests here and there then I ended up sitting in my doctor’s office. He checked the test results and shook his head. What is it? Do I have cancer? Am I dying? I asked. I’m so sorry but I fear it’s much worse than that. He said. He explained my case to me as gentle as possible, I could tell.

The doctor diagnosed me with a rare sickness, he called it You. You. You.

He called it you.