I want you to understand why I cry when I stand at the ocean. The vast horizon whispers to me in a soft murmur. It reminds me of just how big life is, and how if you don’t grab what you can it might disappear like the sand beneath your feet. It instructs me to reach my hands out and feel the wind. It beguiles me into closing my eyes and thinking of a time when I did not know you. A time before I knew your voice and a time before your hands ever touched my body.
There was a time in which I was free from your memory. Your scent did not linger in pillows and I did not glimpse your shadow out of the corner of my eye. This span of space is irrelevant to me now because all I can conjure up is you. You walking through my door. You lounging in my chair. You in my bed. Somehow you can be in all these places at the same time and in none of them at all, and I feel this loss in my bones.
This deep ache is all I have left of our experience. The lessons learned are invisible but ingrained in my soul and etched on my skin like a tattoo. Two people who had things to discover about themselves and were each a catalyst for the other. A beautiful, yet tragic, concept.
There are moments when I forget you are gone. When I first awaken, there is a space between dream and consciousness where you are still mine. I taste this with my tongue and roll it around in my mouth. I cherish this thought and chase it down as it fades into the day. I run in circles.