It's easy when you're an hour away and it's been a few weeks. It's easy when you aren't brought up in conversation like you're the sting of coffee on the tip of everyone's tongue. You no longer linger in my dreams, day or night because you haven't got the time anymore.
But it's not easy when you've decided to spend the night and the walk from my bedroom to the loft where your heavy breathing feels like it's suffocating me and all that will ease the discomfort is laying beside you, is just steps away. It's not easy when the soft whispers of how much you love me bounce around the room, repeating themselves, and when I ask if you hear it too all you say you can hear is the soft hum of the refrigerator. It's not easy when you grab me by my hands and waltz with me in the hallway, and when I say I can't dance, you say you can't either. It's not easy when I thought I was finally doing okay, and you just came right back.
I can't blame you, because I love you. And it's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.