I Miss You

Sometimes she missed him so much that the ache of it reverberated around the echoing emptiness of her chest.

The force of the emotion summoned the tears and her throat constricted into sandpaper scratchiness as her eyes tried to refrain from leaking.

This sensation scared her more than you can ever know.

Almost three decades before, there was another girl who felt that way.

She cried and yearned in the absence of a man who eventually liberated her from the confines of her father’s castle.

He bore her off on his white charger and set her up in a palace they could share, with fine clothes and jewels and more toys than she could ever play with.

But she soon discovered that, despite his initial protestations of love, his heart was a solid block of ice and he was incapable of loving her in the way she needed.

Unable to give her the tactile affection that she craved and, finally, refraining from even verbalising his pleasure at her appearance or her presence in his life. It was if she didn’t even exist.

Yet still she had that feeling in her breast. That fluttering hope that it would one day all be right.

Of course, it never was. The relationship just deteriorated into a mundane monochromatic monotone and, as the years drifted past, the longing in her heart gradually accepted and became still.

Until, one day, she met someone who relit the fire and ignited the passion. Who made the world suddenly colourful and bright.

She had only to take her courage in both hands and grab on to the happiness… but at what cost? The hurt of all those people closest to her.

She could not help worrying if history was about to repeat itself.

If maybe it was her fault and she was just too needy for anyone to satisfy.

And by gaining a brief spell of delirious pleasure, would she have to pay with sorrow for the remaining half of her life?

Suddenly ‘I Miss You’ became a frightening thing.