Jan 2016
Most people love the sound of rain to fall asleep to.
But I cant stand it.
Not when I'm alone and you're a thousand miles away.
Not when the darkness in my room feels like it could swallow me whole.
You're across the country worrying about the weather and money for the bus to the city, and I'm worried about how much longer it will be until your back on the same grounds I am.
It was only two days ago that you left, you came the night before.
We were sat on my sofa, a movie softly humming before us.
You were beginning to get distracted by things like orange juice and how well it paired with whip cream.
Suddenly you embraced me in the most childlike way possible, but somehow it worked.
Your arms were around me.
I took in a deep breath and felt my heart beating rapidly, I was sure you could feel it too.
But then I felt so peaceful, like it had always been this way and always would.
You made me laugh so hard that night, and you laughed at the sound of mine, like you hadn't expected to, such a genuine smile spread across your face. Then later as the movie came to a close, I was dancing my fingertips across the span of your arm as you were falling asleep.
I looked down at your face and watched your chest rise and fall steadily, your eyes so delicately closed, and wished so hard for them not to open until the sun came up. So I could stay down here with you and cozy up next to your chest and listen to your heartbeat.
My own metronome.
But you did wake up, and we did go upstairs as you made your way to your temporary room for the night and I made my way to my own room.
I wanted to wake up early the next morning, to say goodbye before you were off to your flight.
I even set an alarm, determined to wish you a safe flight and silently whisper how much I loved you to myself.
But somehow I couldn't manage to move.
I felt so heavy, like every weight in the world was tied to my wrists and ankles, only making it harder when I pulled.
So I turned over and went back to bed.
Now I'm lying in my bed again, and the sound of the rain has subsided, but the ache of not having you here has not. My fingers hurt like their arthritic because they aren't woven in yours.
You're a thousand miles away, and all that's left of the storm is the drops of condensation falling down my window. It's watered the flowers that you planted in my mind, just please come home soon and tend to them.
I miss you dearly.
But I cant stand it.
Not when I'm alone and you're a thousand miles away.
Not when the darkness in my room feels like it could swallow me whole.
You're across the country worrying about the weather and money for the bus to the city, and I'm worried about how much longer it will be until your back on the same grounds I am.
It was only two days ago that you left, you came the night before.
We were sat on my sofa, a movie softly humming before us.
You were beginning to get distracted by things like orange juice and how well it paired with whip cream.
Suddenly you embraced me in the most childlike way possible, but somehow it worked.
Your arms were around me.
I took in a deep breath and felt my heart beating rapidly, I was sure you could feel it too.
But then I felt so peaceful, like it had always been this way and always would.
You made me laugh so hard that night, and you laughed at the sound of mine, like you hadn't expected to, such a genuine smile spread across your face. Then later as the movie came to a close, I was dancing my fingertips across the span of your arm as you were falling asleep.
I looked down at your face and watched your chest rise and fall steadily, your eyes so delicately closed, and wished so hard for them not to open until the sun came up. So I could stay down here with you and cozy up next to your chest and listen to your heartbeat.
My own metronome.
But you did wake up, and we did go upstairs as you made your way to your temporary room for the night and I made my way to my own room.
I wanted to wake up early the next morning, to say goodbye before you were off to your flight.
I even set an alarm, determined to wish you a safe flight and silently whisper how much I loved you to myself.
But somehow I couldn't manage to move.
I felt so heavy, like every weight in the world was tied to my wrists and ankles, only making it harder when I pulled.
So I turned over and went back to bed.
Now I'm lying in my bed again, and the sound of the rain has subsided, but the ache of not having you here has not. My fingers hurt like their arthritic because they aren't woven in yours.
You're a thousand miles away, and all that's left of the storm is the drops of condensation falling down my window. It's watered the flowers that you planted in my mind, just please come home soon and tend to them.
I miss you dearly.
