Effy

I walk around for hours today

The sun hitting my face, except I feel no warmth

But if I'm being honest here, I've been walking around for a week because

I don't know what else to do.

It's been a week

Since he was here

A week

Since I saw his face

A week

Since I felt his touch…

Freddie's dead.

I hear the words but I don't let them sink in.

I can't let them

And I don't want to.

I close my eyes and go to the place far away in my mind where things good and bad co-exist. The place better than here, because there, he still exists. I feel him smiling as he holds me as I beg him to be there when I open my eyes again. Instead, he answers with a kiss. He kisses my cheek

My mouth

My chin

My neck

My shoulder

And I let him. My body takes every bit of him in and I hold him close letting him take in mine. He's so gentle as his hands move along my skin and there, in his arms, I feel love at its peak. But most of all I feel safe.

I make note of every detail because I know that day by day my memory will fade.

His scent

His touch

His kiss

As his lips continue to explore.

My eyes open without my consent and again reality sucks me back in. Fuck, I yell, when really all I want to do is cry. I run to the first place I can think to go and don't stop until I get to Freddie's shed. I hold my breath as I look around.

Memories.

Too many fucking memories.

And I strain trying to hold on to the good ones.

Ever since the police came to my house and told me the news I've felt this gigantic emptiness inside me. Not the kind you want to fill with food, porn, or knowledge but the kind you don't know what to do about.

Except, fill it.

With that thing

That thing

That means everything.

It's my fault. I loved Freddie but I didn't let him in. I pushed him away until eventually my pushing led to his death.

He was killed, when he was too busy saving me.

Murdered, when he was too busy loving me.

And now all I want is to tell him sorry. Pull him, instead of push him. And tell him how much he meant to me. How grateful I was when he took care of me. How now that I am without I am I feel close to nothing.

It's amazing, really

How long your list of things to tell a person gets

when they're gone.

I didn't cry. I haven't cried. I can't cry because I'm too angry that I let this happen. And all I do is yell. I yelled when they told me, screamed when Cook brought me to see his body and cried out to his family when they tried to tell me they 'knew what I was going through'.

I was a mess before, yes, and now with Freddie no longer here, 'mess' is an understatement.

No one gets how I feel. No one fucking understands.

And when I close my eyes and go back to that place, it only kills me more, as I hold on to what is not there. What will never be there, again.

What I needed hurt me, and when I didn't let myself need it back, it hurt me more.

Till it killed

the one I love.

But my demons:

they're happy.

They're finally at rest, now that he's gone.

But my heart:

It cries,

Hungry for food

reality will never let it have.