Fought

I miss him. 

I miss the way he smells

I miss the way he looked at me, 

clothed or not

I miss the way his fingers fell on my skin, 

like a soft wave crashing on the coast at dawn

I miss the way his lips touched mine,

so gentle yet with enough power to bring a lord to his knees

I miss the way he held me

His arms wrapped me tight like the ribbons I wore in my hair as a child

His palms cupped my face as a fragile piece of fine china

He took care of me

He met my every need. 

Until he didn’t.

The air turned cold like summer skies turned to the harshness of winter

All of a sudden I was alone

Standing on the shoulder of a dark sullen road

How many moons do I have to cross to find you again?

The air turned fiery in my lungs. Anger. Grief.

Loss.

I lost

to the world

to him

to myself.