i paint you with my words when i’m not with you so i don’t miss you that much.

i don’t know why i keep finding it so strange not to be bent over with the weight of missing you. i guess maybe i’ve been prepared for so long to ache terribly being across this vastness from you – as if the physical separation alone could break my bones. there is no doubt that this is one of the easier nights and that there are times when i tangle myself in these sheets and ache for you in all senses – mind, heart, body, hands, tongue. but i am finding that it is not as tho i left half of myself with you, but rather that i left my best friend, my unwavering companion, a partner to nap with and cook with and to run-through-parking-lots and water fountains. and maybe things are sometimes easier because i am forced to live. i am learning a certain spontaneity and acceptance of the unknown just by trudging through this every day.

but the ache of missing, the very physical act of yearning to be with someone that you can’t quite reach (if not now, ever) is mutual, that there are things i am unable to explain in eloquent terms or be poetic, to make any of this feel better because it has already manifested itself into my heart too, quietly but firmly, all the heaviness and exhaustion from being away from you.

i keep wanting to curl into you and my mind keep tracing over the notion that this is it, above all things, and how soon we would be bracing ourselves for the contrast between absolute certainty in a future with another human being and the spaces separating us which gape and protrude unfairly.

every night, i miss your body pressed against mine and i know that is just the start of an ache which linger and fade, the ebb and flow of missing someone.

tu me manques !