Epitaph Pt. 2

<33 As promised

cw: relationship violence, grief

11/15/2021

The first snow casts a soft silence over the city - a muffled stillness that prompts me to slow down. I breathe as I look out the window and think about you. I dreamt about you last night - after everything, seeing each other again - the moon still in Aries right before the Full Blood Moon in Taurus, encouraging me to spend some time reflecting.

This is far from the first time I’ve dreamt about you - each time being dragged out of my subconscious, resisting waking, desperately clinging to pieces of you as they slip through my fingers, energy pulling me towards you, always so much left unsaid. All I want is for you to reach out and touch me, but you never do.

I'm drawn to the chaos and the impossibility of things working out, chasing unavailable love. It is easy to let your heart buzz with temporary, fruitless attraction - the kind that hurts and that you know could never ultimately bloom - in soil damaged by past traumas - ghosts of the violence enacted upon us hanging overhead - rotting our hopes from the inside out - before they ever even had a chance.

I miss you around Christmas - that first winter when I melted into your arms on the dance floor, my face on your neck - anger drowning under the wave of oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin. The second year when I finally yelled back. And the third, when I spiralled with misplaced yearning - desperately wanting to be chosen for once, over-empathizing with your pain, anything to avoid feeling my own - words echoing in the void of your spam folder.

Tonight I know exactly where I’m headed. Silhouettes of fir trees stand like towers in front of the gentle glow of the night sky, gravestones illuminated by the lamp posts. I sit in my spot, in the snow, parka shielding me from the cold. My fingers start to sting as I click through, selecting picture after picture - old screenshots on my phone of arguments we had - deleting (almost) every last trace of you.