• I close my eyes and I see your dark eyes- irises so deep that your pupils hid beneath. Only when I was close enough could I see how they truly appeared. Your dark, olive skin had always been vibrant and effortless. I see your long, black hair speckled with infrequent strands of white. I hear your melodic voice.

    My heart races and my chest tightens ever so slightly. My hazel eyes feel the sting of salty rain, but I don’t let the tears fall. I don’t want to cry any longer. I wish I could forget.

    You were gorgeous on the outside, but I can’t see it. I don’t feel affection or longing. To me, there is nothing beautiful in your characteristics. You are like a poisonous frog painted in vibrant, tantalizing colors and all I see is a warning.

    I feel fearful and anxious. Countless nights have been spent lying awake and thinking of you. Indirect threats roll over me. “You need to die. We can’t both exist in the same dimension.” Adrenaline pumps through me at every miniscule sound that echoes in the darkness. “You should just kill yourself.”

    It takes me back to the beginning of our undoing. Too many drugs coursed through your veins and there were no inhibitions, nothing to stop you from destroying yourself except my own pleading and weak will. Every piece of me was unfolding as I followed you down into the pit you were digging. The excuses built an upside down castle and you became the king of your own abyss.

    I remember watching you get lost as you went on a long trip. The blankness in your eyes disturbed me to the very core as your voice rang loud in the early morning, your words a jumble of incoherent nonsense. It was terrifying to face the thought that you may never return. And you never did. The drugs destroyed something in you that night and the man that resumed consciousness in your body was almost like a demon possessing you.

    You became a snake. The words you spit were venomous and I could feel myself slowly draining away.

    I remember watching the news in the early morning and you returning, your mind away on another trip. I remember the sickening repetition of insults you whispered in my ear. I remember you shoving me to my chamber. I remember your hands slithering around my throat like a boa constrictor. I remember the fear of not being able to breathe. I remember the weakness I felt as I struggled to push you away.

    I remember the morning when you came back two days later.

    “What happened to you? Did you get attacked by a bear?” my brother had asked me.

    I wish I could forget the darkness of your eyes. I wish I could forget the sound of your voice and the touch of your hands.

    I wish I could forget you.