“All I want is to tell you how much I need you,
but no sound escapes my throat.”
This is one of those nights, with the first light of morning just creeping over the horizon, that I contemplate my place in this world. When my world is fast asleep and I’m wide awake, it’s the silence that gets me. The eerie calm that has washed over everything in the night. I find myself envious, because I’m not at peace. I’ve forgotten what that feels like. So I do the only thing I can, in these long, lonely moments — I grieve for all that has been lost. And I remain hopeful that I’ll have another day to try again. But deep down, I know. I’ll fail again. Just as I’ve done for what seems like forever now. Failing has become a part of who I am. I know it would help if I could just tell you how much I need you, but every time I try to speak, no sound escapes. And that hurts me far more than it should. Far more than I should allow. But it does. Slowly chipping away pieces of me.
© Sarah Doughty
I just wonder how many
pieces are left.