To You Who Got Away: I Miss You

Writer: Ana Zarate

Editor: Katherine Zubiaur

I wake from a nap, slick with sweat, snow swaying down like fallen stars. And although I fight with myself for an instant, I cannot help but remember you. The walls are quiet now, crayon lines smothered by thick layers of white paint, but the nail markings where your photographs once hung remain scars that remind me of your absence. Tea scorches my tongue, honey chokes my throat like a lie.

And I admit that I don’t just miss you in the dead of night when I’m bored and have nothing else to think about; I repeat you like a melody I cannot forget. And although I have washed your scent off my clothes, and your touch off my hands, it’s nights like this that I allow myself to dream of you.

Do you remember my favorite season? The mole on my cheek? The sound of my voice when pronouncing your name? When you wake up in the middle of a white painted night, and there is nothing left to think about. 

Do you miss me? 

Do you know me? 

Do you remember me?