Night

If you listen closely you can hear doors slamming. Closets full of memories, love, freedom, honesty, and truth locked behind a door for which only you have the key.

33 days and counting

In three days we would have been together 20 months. 20 is a good number. 19 just wasn't enough.

one month

It's like staring at your arm rot with gangrene. You look, trying to will it back to life. The surgeon impatiently demands that it needs to be removed before the infection spreads, tainting the rest of your blood. But you stare, denying that life can exist without touching, feeling, holding. You weigh the options, realizing that the option you want doesn't exist. So you wait and stare, ignoring the calls to reason, just hoping the infection kills your heart before it breaks.

A month. You've been gone a month. I still don't believe it's true. Surely something as amazing, real, and wonderful as what we shared would bring you back to me. My heart is so in love with you it can't fathom moving on. I hate time, I hate that each ticking second takes you farther away from me. I'm holding on to you so hard, and fear that you're loosening your grip. I don't want to let go.

And I am tortured by free time. You were what I looked forward to, every day I woke up to you, every night I slept in dreams of you. But now there is nothing but endless free time. No part of the day is pain free.

I miss laughing.

7.7.08

I am so laden with sadness I can hardly lift my head off the pillow. The more time that lapses between us makes this more and more real. The reality that you're not returning. The reality that you wouldn't, even if you could. You were my life, and I yours. So to think that you are still my life, and I'm no longer yours is driving me nuts. Completely nuts.

My life has fallen down
around me before,
--lots of times,
for lots of reasons--
usually other people.

And most of the time
I was fortunate enough
to have a large lump of
that life hit me on the
head and render me numb
to the pain & desolation
that followed.
And I survived.
And I live to love again.

But this,
this slow erosion from below
--or within--
it's me falling down around my life
--but not really.
And you're out of that life
--but not quite.

-P. McWilliams

all i need is
someone to
talk to
about
you
but
you
are the
only person
I can really
talk to.
trapped.

-P. McWilliams

It's becoming more and more unbearable. I obsessively think about you more now than I did when I was with you. Who knew that was possible. The ache is growing bigger and bigger each day. I wonder how you are, how you really are. Happy? Happier without me? Do you cry for me the way I cry for you?

The lump in my throat only seems to be getting bigger.

At night when I crawl into bed I snuggle up against a big hard pillow, telling myself that it's your back I'm rubbing. A pathetic substitute for reality. Of course at the moment I hate reality.

Panicked fear.

Couples don't bother you until you're no longer a part of one, and then they just become miserable reminders of the one you lost.

Dread.

I want to talk to you like we use to talk. I want to laugh with you. I want to touch you. I want to love you. I want to kiss you. I want to be with you.

Damn, I want to be with you