haunt me

i wrote this on wednesday, for an open mic event held by my university. recently i've been loving pieces about nostalgic mourning, and this is one of those. i wrote it in 20 minutes so if there's any mistakes, no there is not. also ik the title sucks, i literally did not have any idea what it should be called lol,, i hope you enjoy it :D 

He stood in the street in front of my house. It was raining, as it had been the day of our argument, before we stopped talking for what was supposed to be a week but turned into almost ten years. The air was filled with that smell that I associate with him - strawberry and mint and the Monster Energy that he wasn't technically allowed to drink - and it made me want to gag because it makes me think of summer, and being a teenager, and the day that we argued in the rain before the meteor shower. It makes me think of stubbornness, and being absolutely not in love but feeling loved all the same. 

He was wearing the same jeans he wore to my birthday - the one where he promised to hold my hand if I was afraid but backtracked just before we got onto the ride - and the old shirt he wore the day of my cousin's wedding, when we sat on the wall outside my house and I taught him the constellations, when he whispered in my ear that I was pretty in the dress that he had picked, when he pretended that my dad knew I was outside when I shouldn't have been.

His chest was heaving, his fists were clenched, and I was certain that my mind was once again forcing me to relive the moment I lost the one person I think I have ever truly loved. I hate myself for that argument. I hate myself for not reaching out before he moved away. I hate that I am left with his absence tearing me apart every six months when I doubt that he ever thinks of me at all. 

But he didn't start the argument. Instead, he looked me in the eyes, and said possibly the worst thing he ever could:

"I miss you."