I become such a monster when I miss you

Thick black ichor bleeding out of her mouth, her eyes, her ears! She looks every bit the monster her mother said she was (would she be proud, she wonders?). Every bit the horrible thing hidden underneath your bed–your stairs!!–your closet.

Nothing resembling words, language, comes out of that mouth, but ohh their name! Their name comes out garbled and yearning but clear as a bell. A whistle. A howl. It’s a cry, a call for them to return (come back!) (where are you?). Return and satiate me. Quell me. Soothe this feral beast within me back into a person. Or at least, the resemblance to a person. It’s close enough.

Clawing. Digging. Tearing. The earth is tilled under their steps, roads are destroyed, gravesites violated. Nothing is too holy or sacred to destroy. What gets in between her and hers is good as dead. Dust in the air.

Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?

She is incomplete! Half of her heart missing, torn from her ribcage, cruelly! What is she without them? A husk, a shroud, an echo. Nothing worth looking at. Nothing worth seeing! Loving!

Love! My Love! Return to me! Love me in my primal state! See me and see desire! Softness! Something worth your grace! Your affection!

The only response is the wind.