i know i've said that it hurts most at night,
and screaming into your pillow at 2am
is the romantic, glorified equivalent
of constantly feeling
cheated
emotionally bruised
and too far away from him,
but sometimes,
it’s 10am on a monday morning
and you’re leaning on the kitchen sink
waiting for the toast to pop up
and the smell of dusty sunlight and
chamomile tea makes you
miss. him. so. much.
that you don’t know what to do
with your hands.
today, i closed his bus tickets in the front page of a composition book filled with every poem i've ever written about him, and i'm planning on sending it tomorrow. i couldn't stop smiling and the thought of him opening it. this is what it is to be in a long distance relationship. you experience almost all of it by yourself, despite your happiness. the little things mean so much more. i have never tasted anything more bittersweet.