You didn’t lose love, it’s still here. It still burns brighter than all the stars in the galaxy. Even on the darkest of nights – it’s still there.
You’re my 4 am thoughts, alone in the silence of the night. You’re my 2 pm thoughts, a welcomed distraction in my work day when I’m aching to reach out and rest my hand on your thigh. You’re my 9 am thoughts, craving the warmth of you on all the cold lonely mornings. You’re my 8 pm thoughts, your head in my lap and my fingers through your hair. You’re my 11 pm thoughts, my fingertips aching for your skin to draw you impossibly closer.
If I squeeze my eyes shut, I can pretend your body is right here beside me again. I can pretend your hand is inches from mine, waiting for me to take it. I can reach out and feel your warmth. But then I open my eyes. It’s cold. And I’m numb.
“I’m giving up,” she finally cried.
But, still, she tucked the only key to her heart right there under the welcome mat – nestled safely for if her lover were to someday return. To someday come back home.
Jolting awake from the darkest of nightmares. Ones that petrify you and leave you with the taste of lead in your mouth. Or stirring from the warmth and goodness of a magical dream. One where you’ve come back to me. One where I can kiss you.
Either way, I can’t reach out and feel you. I can’t be settled. The unrest only lingers. And it all hurts just the same.
I wonder how many more planes I’ll watch—flying overhead just before they touch down—until I stop hoping one would bring you back to me.
It’s hard to even feel you anymore
Slipping away, like a memory
I wonder where I’ll go first,
I’ll hope forever that it’s to you.
Do you ever wonder why we had that extra night? Like it was gifted to us. I don’t always believe in higher powers or things happening for a reason, but it’s things like this that make me question it all.
My flight was cancelled, do you remember? The winds were too strong – planes couldn’t take off. They had to put all the travelers up in an airport hotel. An inconvenience to most travelers, sure. But for us? But now? All I can think about is how grateful I am to have had that one extra night indulging in you. As if some higher power knew what greater storm we were about to face, so it stirred up that wind storm and kept me close to you.
One extra night in the same time zone, where it wasn’t London and New York. Just you and me.
One extra night spent laughing with you between every kiss. One extra night with our bodies intertwined between the sheets. One extra night sharing dinner together, smiling and chatting without a care in the world. One extra night sleeping with my arms holding you tightly against me and refusing to let go. One extra night singing along to show tunes and giggling as we stumbled over the wrong words.
One extra night of love.
One extra night of warmth.
One extra night of us.
One extra night of all the things I miss most.
One extra night of all the things I didn’t appreciate enough until long after my flight touched back down.
I wish when I kissed you goodbye, I knew it was a goodbye forever. I never would’ve come up for air. I would’ve drowned in the taste of your mouth on mine, over and over again.
I still look for you in every book. In every lyric. In every line of poetry. In every episode of television. In each movie I watch for the hundredth time. I still look for you among a sea of strangers in a crowded room. In the emptiest of places. In every piece of artwork. I still look for you, even in my loneliest dreams.
The silent self mutilation of climbing into fresh bedsheets dusted with the scent of you and gripping tight, realizing all my nights are spent sleeping with a ghost.
Do we still look up and see the same sky? Some days, it feels impossible to even feel certain anymore.
Hundreds of red rose petals and all the reasons I’ll always love you, set ablaze and scattered like ashes lost in the wind.
It was always there, an ocean between us. But now? It feels like galaxies. Like I’m light years from home and can never find my way back.