hbz20
I've gone months without it. Hours pass where I rarely find myself thinking of it. Days go by without my heart skipping a beat at the sound of it.
It's the only thing I can actively stop myself from doing...
...mentioning your name.
What I wouldn’t give to speak with you today. Not about anything too trite such as politics or the way I feel about you, but just to chat. A simple ‘how is your day?’ and ‘what’s on your mind?’. It’s only because I miss you so and also because I could sit and listen to you talk about nothing for hours.
This is just the way I dreamt it would look when we finally gazed into each others eyes and saw exactly what we've been needing to see in someone for the longest time.. so please kiss me before I wake up again..
I used to think that I couldn't go another day without you. I felt not whole. Everything around me stopped being.... meaningful. I thought that half of me was gone. I thought that half of me was you. How wrong it seems 6 months later... and how happy I am without your stupid half of my heart.
It's amazing to think what your existence does for me. Every look, no matter how insignificant, makes my heart skip. Every touch makes me feel again- something I never thought would happen. I'm simply falling in love with the idea of you.
When there's a repeat on a projection screen in the back left hand corner of your mind and Jay Leno is on the muted television set while ramen sits and wafts it's odor through the open window of your fourth-story apartment, that's when you know it's either time to move on, or go buy a cat.
It's been 69 days since I've heard from you. My muse has become extinct.
The lights go down and silence ensues. Figures approaching in black shadows before us. What I wouldn't give to be a part of it all. All of us in one room, connected by the same sweet, raw, epic sounds.
I am ill. Not the kind of ill that goes away in a week. The kind that takes months and hopefully, not years. It's more so a disease of the heart. Heartsick, I believe they call it.
We all have a skeleton in our closet. If we're extremely lucky, there may be four or five of them in the small cramped space; playing poker while smoking cigars and downing brandy.
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