I miss you.

I miss all of you.  This life I once had.  Me, Hy, you, all of you.

Deep, lacerating pain singes along the pathways to the pads of my fingertips and painted toes like lit gunpowder.  The crevice where my hot blooded heart was now gapes empty and yawning.

This summer has grasped me by the ankles and wrists in two hands and twisted with no mercy, wringing every drop of me into the sea of loss below.

I am a fighter and have not given up.  My eye remains on you, on me and Hy.  My grip is strong even as I flap helplessly in the storm.

The depth of my own strength fills me with pride; others would have crumpled into an ashy heap of dried tears.  

But more than anything, I wish I had no cause for proving my Viking spirit still.  I wish it was done with me already.

I want to come back.  

With my hips gathered in painful fistfuls; with the slit of my body choking a greedy, begging face; with my cries and sobs and hot, wet, motherfucking tears welling in the shells of my ears.

I miss you.

I miss me.

I miss everything.