83 days down, 12 to go
There’s something that just eats away at my subconscious, as I try to remember the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. When I try to remember what it feels like to hold your hand. To be held. I have missed you so deeply that my mind has tried to protect me by forgetting who you are. I have missed you like I’m drowning, gasping for air as the world around me goes dark and I feel sick to my stomach because I can’t remember your face. I heard your voice yesterday for the first time in weeks and when I say it sent me reeling, I mean it. Your voice alone sent me falling away into the winds of what-if’s and could-be’s, my imagination filling with future memories we could make once you’re home. But you’re only back here with me for such a short time. I know your heart doesn’t even want to stay here, you need to be travelling, experiencing, seeing, hearing, tasting, running through the streets of foreign cities with a fire in your heart and I hope that you see me running alongside you gripping your hand tight as we weave through crowds of strangers. The thought of you once again leaving for months when I only get to have you back for a few weeks seems cruel of the universe. Why would she send me on all these false leads, only to finally find you and then have you constantly ripped from my arms? The universe might think that I am strong after all this time, after all the challenges sent my way, but she is wrong. The strength of a thousand lifetimes has long left me and I am now only a shell of vulnerability that was convinced to let you in. You gave me reason to be strong once more, and now the rigidity of my resolve is trembling at the thought of you leaving me behind. I can only hope the universe has whispered to you too and that you will take hold of my paper-thin love and give it your kindness and generosity so that I may rebuild my shell to weather the storm of your absence once more. Please can’t you tell me you love me and have missed me more than words. The silence of the night knows my secret grief, and maybe one day I’ll have the guts to tell you, too.
-m.d.
