Love was the only drug she knew
She missed his every stare, every moment, every kiss, every talk, every night they’ve been together.
His absent was more powerful- stronger- than his actual presence.
Days went by, months too,
but nothing like him came through.
He was the spark of the day,
the whisper in the darkness,
the hug in every wind
that danced around her.
Strangers talked to her, flirted, but she knew all of that was just a play.
She knew love
and none of that seemed or felt like it.
Even if she tried to trick herself into it,
love had been the only drug she’d ever known.
Somedays this was what kept her going; and others was what kept her inside, lacking of desire, lacking of force: lacking of her essence.
As a young teenager she’ve read “The moment when you forget to forgot,
is when you have forgotten him.
And that is, when he shows up again too.”
Every word of that was true.
It seemed to her that the more she tried to forget him,
the more she remember him.
Knowing it was just another step into forgetting him,
there was not much she could do, but keep going.
She never knew if he felt the same.
They never talked anymore- it was agreed on. They never talked anymore.
If only temporary..