I miss him.

Never did I thought the words would reach my lips, nor the feeling touch my fingertips, but now they repeat on record, I miss him, I miss him, more than I can know, for my heart meets my brain in nowhere at all.

I miss him.

His smile, his hair, the way he looked my way, the way he let me be me even if it hurt him.

But I can wait. Things will work out, I know it. He still looks at me like he wants me. I can swear it. I may be crazy but maybe he’s ok with crazy. Maybe he’s afraid of me, but I’m afraid of me too. We can cower together and hold each other’s arms and promise it will get better. It has to get better.

Maybe he does fear me. Maybe he sees demons in my eyes and bad memories on my fingers and doesn’t want to see me even though he does. Maybe he doesn’t want the horror in his heart once more.

   But that maybe. Maybes are what I live for, each lasting breath, every never-ending second, they all rely on maybes.

   The future relies on my trust in that maybe.

    He relies of my trust.  

  In the end of it all, he relies on me.

  I miss him.