The wind whistled as I conjured up the only picture my mind could handle; you. A picture of you.
Every moment with you cascaded through my mind, each snapshot a waterfall, of all the times we touched.
You were gone, but I could still smell the way you were in the morning before the baptismal droplets of shower water washed away the sins of the night before.
You were gone, but I could still feel the way your hands moved down my back. Soft and slow; big, strong hands. Calloused, the way a man’s hands should feel.
You were gone, but I could still hear the way you whispered wet words into my ear. Heated, and quick, like if you didn’t say it right then, right at that moment, you could never say it again.
Every sense was overwhelmed by you, even in your absence. The memories flooding from my mind, all the way to the bottoms of my feet, weighing heavy on my shoulders as I try to run to wherever you are. I don’t get far.
So many moments, all encapsulated in a picture, in film, running over and over. I didn’t buy a ticket, but I snuck into the theatre anyway, my favorite movie, showing all day long.
At night, the stars speak. I capture one in my hand and it tells me, in its small little voice, that you will be back soon. It’s hard to believe, but it’s been so long.
My belly somersaults with excitement. It can’t be contained. You’re here, you’re out there, and for right now, knowing that is enough.
I can anticipate the day when I can run to you. When I can see your silhouette in the distance and be in your presence again.
I envy the people that say hello, while we are always saying goodbye.
Such a dirty word. When it spills out of my mouth it tastes like coffee and sunrise, because it seems like all goodbyes take place before the sun comes up. Always in a rush, the remains always staining my white t-shirt, a reminder that we were once breathing the same air, but now we are not.
I miss you.
But even more than that, I love you.
Whether I’m screaming it into the sky or whispering it through the landlines or screaming it while trying to find reception on my iPhone, it’s true. And I hope you hold onto that truth the same way that I hold onto those words every time you’ve said them.
They are still in my hair, where you whispered them when you thought I was asleep.
Through the phone, rushed, hanging up before I could respond.
And on my mouth, through kisses that we had been waiting a lifetime for.