Something different again for Raw this week. Danielle Matthews’ Always on my Mind is probably a prose poem, if that’s a thing. And if it isn’t a thing, it is now.
Always on my Mind | Danielle Matthews
Yesterday I woke without you on my mind. I wondered if it would happen, and when it did it scared me.
The loss of you shook me, changed me intrinsically and forever. Filled with primal forces, I’ve clung on for dear life as the lack of you became physical. Like a wound filled with only gravity, pulling in pieces of me and transforming them into something else.
I sing to myself, softly, like lullabies, and wish you were here. I look at pictures of you and listen to The Cure, but only once.
I don’t want to wake up without you behind my eyes. I miss you in my bones.
You wouldn’t recognise me now. I am harder, leaner, with bones that jut and threaten, ravaged by losing you. Meat tries to claw back onto my bones and soften edges grown taut with agonies. The thought makes me recoil.
I want to wear the loss of you like a scar, telling the world what I can’t: that you are my heart, and the loss of you broke me.
So yesterday when I woke without you on my mind, it scared me.
If I am healed, then I will be exposed, and I’m too fragile to be seen. I shattered when I lost you, and I’m not pieced together yet. My moments without you are made from years, my minutes from sorrow, and that needs to be worn.
Now I’m frightened to sleep, playing music too loud, keeping myself awake; defying the urge to close my eyes upon my world of misery and pain.
If I wake up fixed, I will have lost the last of you.
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