I can’t believe I’ve lost you. Every inch of me aches.
Before today I had such a false sense of reality.
The ringing will not stop until I unwrap your arm from my waist and get out of bed. I make it to the ledge and look out of the loft to a vast emptiness that I not only see but also feel inside of me; this is much easier than I thought it would be.
A tick, a chirp, an exhale. I slowly allow my eyelids to glide downward and then close completely. It’s 4:30 in the morning and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. The only things I feel are the sting in my eyes and the keys beneath my finger tips. I need to go back. I need to return.
That uneasy feeling continues to fill my stomach and radiate through my limbs. I had to leave without you knowing, I’m not ready yet to say goodbye.
Without hesitation your name fills the air like a heavy fog. No matter what you’re doing right now, you’re here with me.
Here’s to hoping I can get paid for blogging about things I enjoy.
The anxiety rushes over me in waves.
Breath in.
Breath out.
I must remind myself.
