once, when i was still grieving over you, my dad asked me
how can you miss him? it's like missing a
toothache. but actually, your presence was also the
morphine, a pleasant numbness, a blissful ignorance to all the
pain you were causing; and when you were gone i couldn't
stop running my tongue along the smooth expanse of emptiness,
over the gaping hole you left, tasting the blood and the
bitterness of loss in my mouth and it was only then that the
ache began to throb insistently, demanding to be felt. i guess
i missed the sugar coated decay.
—b.m.s