It is a strange thing to love you. To miss you. To think of you always and imagine you’re sitting there across from me staring at me knowing me loving me too. I don’t lust for you. It confuses me. My skin desires nothing, yet my heart yearns for all. It begs and weeps and reaches into the air of your absence.
Break up. What vivid words those are. That’s what we did, isn’t it? We broke. We broke it. I blame my clumsy wandering hands gliding over the world like clothes on a rack.
It wasn’t a shatter. It was a break. Suddenly the pretty rock that is our love exposes these inner jagged edges and my brain searches for understanding at this new thing. The sun begins to set. Its ray make the jagged broken thing glisten. It is so beautiful, isn’t it? Brilliant layers and colors sparkling in the warm glow of the fading light. But the sun quickly set on our love, didn’t it?
And now we sit under the night sky begging the stars to make it glisten again. Waiting. We wait for sunlight. I can hardly see you in this cold cold night.
I shiver.
I wait.
