It’s been a month since you last sprayed your perfume in my room. It has faded from my pillows, and my sweatshirts, both which used to keep us so close. I still catch whiffs of you every once and a while, and wish you were here to hold again.
Each week feels like its own simple passing, one succeeding the next. My phone buzzes with the next alarm; this week, I was going to take you to the Zoo. You’d make me laugh, asking if the zebra was black with white stripes, or white with black, all while pointing at a giraffe. My colorblindness was always perfect for a gag.
I daydream of coming home from work, and your car being parked inside of the garage. You’d be hiding inside waiting to surprise me. You’d do it just to get back at me for Saint Patty’s day, me trying my hardest to make your favorite holiday as lively as it was with your family.
I think of the nights by fires that will never be had, and the quiet midnights that seemed without end. I still get about as little sleep as we used to, although I spend them thinking about you now instead. I wonder if we’d be sleeping now or talking about the moon, and what future we would dream.
The hour hand couldn’t hold itself in place for us. All other time seemed to drag on, except when we were together. It really never came as a surprise to me that it happened that way, but I was always shocked when it’d be time to part again.
I’m just seconds away from calling you again, every other moment ticking away when that little hand moves on my watch. I know I shouldn’t but I crave your mind, your voice, and your touch so much that I couldn’t dream of being without it for the rest of my life. It feels so simple to just reach out, but I know that I shouldn’t now. If I do, you might never figure your life out like you need to.
I’m not content to be a vigilant sentinel while you figure out what you need to, but Atlas didn’t want to hold the heavens. He was condemned to. But if I must for an eternity, then I will for all time.