for the person i miss the most.

for the person i miss the most.

A Poem by Sarah Wilson

letter fifteen of a thirty-day challenge. this one's for my darkest angel.

Hey, Cass.

I’m doing this letter challenge. A letter a day for thirty days.
That’s a third of our whirlwind summer.
Today’s topic is, “someone you miss the most”.
And at first, I didn’t think of anyone.
You weren’t even in the list of possible people.
But something triggered something, and you sashayed your way into my head.
And you’ve been stuck there for awhile.
So, this will be about you. Because now that I’m thinking of you, I miss you.
I miss you so much there’s a hole in my chest where my heart belongs.
I spent all of sixth grade on the other side of Professor’s classroom.
I watched you and the boys simultaneously befriend and annoy everyone.
Except me. I don’t know how, but I couldn’t feel anything either way.
Except when we started writing in English class. I don’t know.
I don’t remember much of what you wrote, except it was dark and scary and…
I loved it.
You had the best way of taking the nastiest words and making them beautiful.
I don’t remember the details, though. Isn’t that strange?
You did always tell me to look at the big picture. I’m still working on that.
And, anyway, nothing much happened until the birthday party.
The surprise one, where Amy picked up all the guests one by one from their houses for breakfast.
Sort of a reverse surprise party, and I told you, “this is the only surprise party I’ve ever had.”
And you tactfully reminded me it wasn’t for me, and I told you, “it’s close enough.”
We went to breakfast, and talked about how creepy the indoor balcony was, you know which one.
The one with the chain hanging over the edge. We shared a glance, and I knew we had to talk.
So we did. The entire day, we talked and talked and talked. Antisocial as they come, the both of us.
You almost convinced your mom to let you stay the night, but no. You left for Tennessee the next day.
That night, I pieced together and guessed the letters of your screen name.
[It had melted mostly off my arm by then.]
I found you, right as you found me. We both said, “found you,” at the same time.
We always connected in the most creepy ways.
And anyway,  we talked all that night. And the next. And the next.
I skipped sleepovers and birthdays and we talked our way through the summer.
I learned so much about you, from you. Too much.
And then you started cutting. And cutting. And cutting.
And then you went away for two weeks. I missed you so much it hurt to breathe.
You came back, and actually called me. I hadn’t heard your voice in two months.
Except for in my head, anyway. You told me how the asylum was.
“It’s the most beautiful place in the world, Sarah. I’ve never been so happy.”
We both agreed it was probably the drugs, and we laughed in our somber way.
You started writing more, and talking less.
You started cutting more, and smiling.
I just stopped altogether. School had started again.
I was talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend, and it seemed like he took your place.
Then one night, you weren’t there at all. Two weeks, I waited.
I called your house. Your number was disconnected.
I spent hours and hours and hours rereading our conversations.
I was scared of you, the absence of you.
But I was scared of us, too. You sucked me in, like quicksand.
But I never even knew. I’ve never seen you again.
Never spoken to you again.
I can’t explain our relationship to anyone.
The only one who understood what I couldn’t explain was your ex.
And well, I don’t like him anyway. So I pushed you away.
Very successfully, I hadn’t thought of you in years.
Until this letter, until these two girls who remind me of you.
They suck me in like quicksand, too. One of them’s gone already.
One of them is going to leave. And I’m so, so scared of all of you.
But god, Cassie, our entire summer was based on our fears.
So I guess you’d be proud.
Wherever you are, darkest angel, I do miss you.
I think, maybe I might have loved you. But we’ll never know.
Dance with your demons, and make sure you lead.
Don’t be afraid to step on their toes.

-Your favorite demon.

© 2011 Sarah Wilson

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Added on August 17, 2011
Last Updated on August 17, 2011