I lost you in my very own head. I chased your heaving breaths down corridors in my skull – I ran and I ran and I ran and I ran – but you were always just two steps too far ahead of me, just turning the corner before my feet could land on your shadow and pin you in place. You looked back once and there was a halo around you. I could smell your perfume. You turned away, ran faster, faster. I would almost catch the hem of your garment, but then it would slip though my fingers, sliding silk and traitorous lace.
I lost you in a vision that was brought on by a fever. The wallpaper of my mind was covered in markings, a mockery of your penmanship bleeding onto the carpet. Golden frames contained golden people who had no eyes, only gaping holes in the canvases that made it clear that there were monsters lurking on the other side – coming for me, coming for you and your traitorous lace. You ran from me like I was one of them. Don’t you know that I’m the one who will awaken you with a jewel-encrusted kiss? Don’t you know that I’m the hero of your story?
I lost you in the scream that never left my throat.