missing someone - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
You have become a silhouette, as if you walked from a photograph and left behind blackness. There is an ache that comes and goes, always returning in quiet moments. I want so much to keep you close, to talk and laugh like we once did and I know that your absence is down to me. Please understand that nothing good can come of this right now and I'd rather take the pain sooner than later. Maybe in a few years we can be together again, close, happy... Then we can have something that is actually good, that has a chance of lasting. I see you everywhere I go - in the things we both love - in nature, in music, in silly things. So though you are gone, your aura remains, beautiful and strong, making the pain all the worse, keeping the feelings so raw. In time I'll learn new skills to cope, I always do, I am a survivor after all. The passage of time can dull many things, allow the brain to redirect, reinvest energy elsewhere. In your tough times know that I still love you, that I'd come running if you ever had need, but for now our paths diverge and every step is heavy.
“I love you”, she blurted as she woke. She found her bed to be cold and lonely. She missed his muscular arm that she dreamt was wrapped around her as much as she missed the smell of him. Her room was filled with flowers, but their scent had turned to nothing since she saw him in the Great Hall. The petals of the flowers were an array of enchanting colours; teal, emerald, ruby, amethyst, and pearl, but to her they were only shades of grey. She missed him when he was gone, but it was only now that he was back Ridley realized how much Alexander meant to her. Not seeing him for a year had been tough enough, but seeing him again brought back those feelings she had hidden deep in herself. Love, lust and passion. No man had been the object of her desire in the last year. She had put love from her mind discarding it as though it was nothing more than a pair of shoes that she had outgrown, but now she walked barefoot.
When you are with me the pain stops, or at least it once did. When I had hope that one day you'd come to me and stay, you were my medicine. These days the pain ebbs at first sight of you, then multiplies and I want to flee. Then you go and I miss you with a pain that sits in my guts like so much fire burning slow. Those flames belong in my heart, in my soul, yet no more. And in this hurricane of my soul, amid the endless winds that scream, I make no move. I can protect me, or you. I will choose you until there is no more of my mind or my body, whichever comes first; that is my vow, my oath upon the song of the birds, the light that scatters on still water, the sun that rises each new day.
Steven's nostrils engulfed the delicate hint of vanilla in the air, and with it his brain flooded with pictures of her. Her face just as pretty as the first day he saw her, her eyes twinkling with laughter and her teeth glistening as she smiled. So much time had passed since then, and all Steven had left of her was the occasional fleeting memory. He had lost the sound of her voice and the touch of her skin. His chest ached as he thought of what he had lost. No one had ever replaced her, and no one ever would.
If I stop to dwell for even a fraction of a second my face is wet with tears. They roll silently into my cracked lips, salty and cold. I can never fathom why God would give me someone so good only to snatch them away again. I know you are safe with Him, loved and warm, but I can't reach you there. It's a cruelty that the sun continues to rise, to welcome in each new day devoid of your laughter or even your grumpy complaints and sarcastic commentary. I want to hear you snort at something stupid I did or fart and blame it on the dog. I want you to leave your coat on the floor and forget to take your dirty shoes off, leaving a dirty trail for me when I get home from work. I want you to argue with me about how going downtown on your own is alright for a fourteen year old, because if you could do that it would mean you got away with it. That you aren't cold, lifeless. One day I'll be able to go into your bedroom and clear out those cups that fester with mould, but I can't face it, not yet.
In my heart I retract all the bad things I ever said, they were never a reflection on you, only on my inner demons. You worked hard and I only saw what you could not do. In that permanent fatigue how could you be a the husband Elle magazine said I should have. In my misplaced entitlement I gave you only passive aggressive rage, I withdrew to punish you and became self-absorbed. Now you're gone, fled to another who gives you hugs instead of cold stares, acceptance and not demands, respect and never condemnation. I can never hope to win you back and I don't deserve you, but every day I pray that she treats you well, that you know all the happiness I never gave, that you make back those wasted years we shared. I wish you were still by my side, that I could make amends, that it was me you snuggled after dark. I've grown, I've learnt about what really matters, but not soon enough for us.
My life was sweet like gingerbread but now there's a cookie cutter hole right in the centre. You walked out and the gap you left behind just can't be filled by another, by work or distractions. In your uniqueness you carved yourself a role right into my DNA and no matter how hard I try to remove it it remains unchanged; not bigger, not smaller, not louder and never quieter. I work around it as if it were a ball of razor wire in my living room, it takes effort to ignore it and just a glancing blow will cut deeply. I know it's my fault, I sold you out, for what? A pat on the back, a gold star? Now I see what you meant all along. Now that you aren't here to hold my hand I see it for myself, but unlike you I have not the courage to act.
All around the walls are pictures of Dad, of his champions and of us kids. Max is there too, grinning like an idiot. I close my eyes, letting my mind fill with his voice. I can hear him teasing me like he's just feet away; my mind fills with witty retorts he will never hear to these jibes he can never say. I want to call him softly to see if he can step out of the dusty frame, but this isn't Hogwarts and I'm no Hermione Granger...
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
This morning every food was cardboard. No amount of chewing made it possible to swallow. My mouth is dryer than a sandbox in summer. If he doesn't call soon I'm going to be sick. He's called me after every mission since he was sent overseas, never saying anything special. He asks me to tell him about life back here, dull though it is. When I finish he sometimes asks me to say it all over again, but slower, like he's savouring the words. He can never hang up either, I have to be the one to do that. His mission was over yesterday and the only sound in the house is his damn grandfather clock, ticking away, marking the seconds. Each passing moment only leads to the next, taking me away from the allotted time for his call. The phone has rung five times since I started this vigil, every time it's a sales call or the bank offering me a new great rate. Every time my heart beats fit to burst at the shrill ring, only for the tears to fall when I hear the wrong voice.
The snow alighted on Dean's face softer than the kisses his mother used to plant, and just as cold as the memories had turned. In this swirl of white the world was washed anew, like a new page, but he didn't want it. Under this pristine layer of crystalline water was the path he trod as a child, walking with her hand in hand. He wanted to turn the pages back and dwell on the fine details: the crows feet around her eyes that deepened when she smiled, how she always wore Dad's rubber boots with four layers of socks rather than buy her own, how she never got too old to splash in the puddles. But life was pulling him forward into the unknown with one hand and erasing his past with the other. His thoughts were thicker than the blizzard, "She's gone and who cares? The colours of spring will come but she won't." He turned around to see his prints, he wasn't there anymore but they were. He figured when he got home he'd look for hers, her letters, her favourite novels, her recipe book.
They say the pain dulls with time, and that things will get better. But how can things be better when the reason the pain isn’t as bad anymore, is because I’ve forgotten? Over time, the memory of your presence has escaped my mind. I no longer see your face in strangers, and the things we once shared no longer bring tears to my eyes. If getting past the pain means forgetting you, then I choose suffer my entire life.
I fell for you harder than a slip on black ice; you were funny, always cracking jokes. You had me in stitches on every date. Friends flocked to you like you were the only light in the room, hanging on your words, buying you drinks and slapping your back. After a time I wanted more than the "happy guy" persona, I already loved you, I wanted to get to know the man behind the punch lines. At first you distracted me with jokes and I followed each one, laughing down every blind alley. Then one day Rachel asked me some things about you: where you grew up, what your parents are like, who your best friends were, and I froze. After six months I knew nothing about you other than your alcohol and bed preferences. I sat with you, reached out with my open heart and invited you to reciprocate, to make that connection. Why haven't I seen you since? Why won't you return a simple message. I miss you so much.
The hessian sacks are dusty; in the total heat that bakes me from the inside out I can taste it. In any humidity I would be dripping with sweat, soaked like I'd just jumped in the lake at our old summer house, but in this utter dryness I'm desiccating just to exhale. Perhaps you'd think I don't want to be here, in a heat more oppressive than our new government - how quickly the revolutionaries take to the sweetness of power. But you'd be wrong. I've travelled all day to this very spot. Thirty years ago Caspian stood here, Caspian, my brother. This is where he told the gang they couldn't have his sister and told me to run fast and not look back.
I don't know how long he lasted, how long they made him last, but there was very little left to bury. So here I stand with a limp white rose in my hand. I close my eyes, reach out with the flower that is already loosing petals and will him to come out of the darkness and take it. I want to open my eyes to see his black hair hanging over his left eye like it always did, I want to see the half smile he used when he teased me about being short and skinny. Most of all I want to go back in time and make my stand with Caspian, die with him instead of living without a heart beating in my chest.
Now though... now there is no choice at all. He died so I could live, so live I must. Still with eyes shut I release my grasp on the stem that already feels like week old asparagus. Just for a fleeting moment I think I can hear my name called in his newly dropped voice, echoing softly and I feel the composure I have built up over the past week evaporate. My face buckles like some kid being left at daycare for the first time, my arms move up and down on their own and in jagged moments my legs refuse to hold my weight. Now the hessian sacks press into my face leaving their weave in my skin, an imprint of yesteryear, an impartial witness to my utter undoing...
The ache of longing to be with him echoed through the very marrow of my bones. It was a chill wind trapped in the chambers of my heart. With every spare moment my mind would rehearse a new letter to him. And as the allotted time for his return drew nearer, time herself seemed to slow to such a leisurely pace she seemed cruel to me, ringing out the seconds, so that final week felt like a month. I never knew that missing someone could take over every fibre of your being and wring you out like a wet sponge every day. It is a torment I was unprepared for.
I clasp the photo of the last time I saw him, tears gathering behind my eyes. He was smiling. Why not? We got free popcorn that time, it was the best date ever. The only date I've ever actually seen him have fun. I briskly wipe the tears from my eyes, the memory still fresh in my mind. I wish he was here so that he could comfort me.
Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I am shocked. I look okay, normal even. Inside, the ache for him gnaws at the very heart that still beats endlessly for him. I pull my lips into a smile, and let out a frightened sob when I realise that anyone could easily mistake this lacklustre grin for real happiness. It amazes me to think; how can I look so ordinarily normal when I have crumbled inside?
I kept walking around the house, wishing my father was here to occupy the loneliness that was eating me up. I pushed myself into my mother’s old room - we kept this door closed as if we could trap the memories inside. But once I opened it, every recollection would race towards me like a slap in the face, drenching me in a cold sadness. I could smell her my now, sweet vanilla lingering in the air. Silence suffocates. I can practically see her smiling in her silly beige skirt covered by a peach cardigan...
Cars pass by my windows tonight and I flinch at every one of them, thinking that it's you. I don't understand why you left, or, well, how you left me. You see, it was kind of confusing, the way you just slammed the door and took the car. You've been gone for four nights now and I am sitting here by the window in our bedroom, waiting for that stupid little Black Camaro you have to pull into the driveway. Come on home now, my dear.
Tonight, as I watch the stars, they don’t seem as bright
No, they will never hold the same magnificent light
Part of me wonders if they will ever be the same
Without you to whisper my name
I will miss her smell that can’t fully be described
But it made me feel warm and protected inside
I will miss when she let me cuddle her head
Whispering in her ears everything that I dread
I will miss how she understood my need to run
To leave everything behind and chase the sun
I will miss the long nights when I am taunted by voices
When I run to her and her sweet nicker drowns out the noises
You've gone, and this time for so long. I still don't believe that this is the end. You know, it is so hard to see a person that you used to love go to another world. It is so hard for me to turn and not see you behind me, but it's destiny. I wish that you were here just to tell you things I couldn't tell you; tell you that I love you, tell you that I'll never forget you, tell you that I'll always see you in the stars at night, tell you that I miss you.