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N. Yearning; Wistful longing. |
Is it possible to miss something that was never yours to begin with? I think it might be. I swear to you, I can taste it. Like blood on my tongue when I split my lip. It tastes like sadness and anger have bathed each other in sweet caresses and tender, loving kisses. It tastes unforgiving. How does one mourn a laugh they've never heard, a smile they've never seen, a touch they've never felt? I play over and over the memories we've never had. Like the time we laughed so hard we couldn't breathe. Your laugh was to me the distinct crackle of static before the tape on the cassette expels the sound within Your smile, it was reminiscent of the way the sun felt on snow dressed streets. I cling in desperation to the times we've never shared. It's hopeless. "What are you missing?" Can you taste it? I'm sure it's masked by the liquor that pulses through you. I know your mouth struggles to find the shape of these words. I can picture it now. Your lips moving softly, deftly. I wish it was me you lamented over. I want to respond "You." This metallic hesitation, It's unrelenting. Permeating every taste bud like a raging ocean lapping violently at the levies. They're barely holding on. I can relate. |