So here we are at last,
the end of another tired day
sleep lingers heavily atop my eyelids
as I crawl into our bed
snuggling up next to thoughts
of you

wrapping myself up
in the idea of your arms
closing my eyes
awaiting the routine kiss
on the cheek
and your feet
on my feet

but I am here with only thoughts
and we haven't spoken in weeks

And maybe it hasn't hit me yet
but part of me feels like this
is all just a dream
a bad joke,
a cosmic punch line in the waiting
I'll go home tonight
and lay down in our bed
if I can even convince myself
to first leave the couch
where we last kissed
and I will pass the pile of clothes
on the floor of your side of
the bed
and it will feel like someone stole every last breath in my lungs
but I will get it together and regroup
crawling into my side of the bed
feeling tears well up in my eyes as I catch your scent lingering on the pillow
but I will quickly revert my attention to the clothes on the floor
taking comfort in their presence
as if they are saying "im coming right back for these
to put them away"
as if this morning
when you left
was any other morning
and I will wonder
how long I can leave them lying there
before the sight of them brings me to tears
so maybe it hasn't hit me yet
that so many months now stand between us
that the seasons will change
I will turn another year older
the days will get hard
the nights will be long
and you will be gone
and I know there will be days
where I fall to my knees
drowning in tears
and anxiety
and the weight of it all
and all I will want
is to call you
and I know that this is no longer a luxury
we will be given
so maybe it hasn't hit me yet
but god
help me when it does

I am not scared of the dark anymore.
I no longer have the need to check every closet and corner of our home before I feel safe and certain that no one else is here.
Sometimes I even leave and don't bother to lock the door behind me.
And maybe I'm becoming careless. Or maybe my fears have simply shapeshifted into nameless beings; feelings rather than things.
I am afraid of losing you. I am no longer afraid of the dark, but now when the phone rings, before I even have time to think, I am worrying that it is the call. The call saying that something terrible has happened to you. The apologies. Strangers saying your name and me falling to my knees.
I am no longer compulsive about investigating the possibility of an intruder in our home, rather now I am compulsive about investigating all the possibilities in which you never make it back home to me. The thoughts fall through the cracks in my mind like quicksand and I am left standing with a blank look in my eyes. I am obsessive over every detail, I am consumed with every second of time we have left together, it's all I can think about.
And I no longer lock our front door. Maybe I am careless, or maybe I am leaving it open for the possibility that at any given moment, you might come walking through it, as nonchalantly as businessmen do at 5pm on a Tuesday. Regular, normal, routine.

It's been three months since I moved here and you've been here for two of them and it's got me thinking about how in a world without you minutes feel like hours and hours feel like days, and don't even get me started on the days, our time together feels like quicksand running through my hands. It's a mess all over our spotless kitchen floor. The mop finds its way into the grasp of my fingers every day that you are gone, which is often, because honestly I just need something to hold. Something to occupy the time that we should be spending laid up on the couch hours deep into a new Netflix series tossing off the blankets we wrapped oursevles up in because our bodies have generated so much heat from being so close to each other for so long. Most nights I find myself wrapping up the idea of you into a neat little box that I carry around with me in my chest. Occasionally someone knocks to see how you are doing, how we are doing, and I tell them the same things I tell you. I miss you. And they're confused, because we live together, and don't I know that I should have stopped having to miss you months ago? Only I haven't stopped and I never will. Closing the distance between our states will never compare to closing the distance between me crawling into bed hours after you've fallen asleep, and you crawling out before the dawn breaks, kissing my head goodbye as I sleep. These are our interactions and they do not understand. Our bed is warm but my hands are cold. You kiss my knuckles in your sleep and I take a deep breath, hoping to remember the way you smell; the warmth of your skin; the sounds from your throat as I kiss your cheek; this moment. Every night I spend next to you I thank whoever is listening for giving us this simple pleasure- knowing you are safe, you are here, you are mine. I ask for more time but somehow we always come up empty handed. I knew we would have forever since the moment I met you, and in the vows I've been piecing together since the day we fell in love, I say to you this: falling asleep next to you is one thing I will never take for granted, the days I spend without you are nothing compared to those we spend together, and together... together, we have everything we will ever need.

When you are here
The quiet feels so soothing
Peaceful
The sounds of a long day filled with laughter, love and storytelling are finally coming to an end
Where we lay our heads down on a bed that feels like the finish line from the race
Of the best day of my life
Tranquil
And when you are gone
The quiet feels so heavy
Overwhelming with thoughts that race through my mind like Olympic sprinters
Chasing down the next conversation I get with you
Filling the silent air with all the things I wish I could tell you now, in this moment
The bed feels different now, each night I lay down in this marathon of missing you
Wishing I could sit with you in silence
Smiling in the darkness as the conversation holds us
The only words we say, I love you, I love you, I love you

I moved into our new apartment building
and for two weeks
every time I heard someone in the hallway outside our front door
I imagined it was you
coming home to me

for two weeks
I had every light in our place on
all the time
to let myself pretend
this home was occupied
and wished
I had someone
to argue over
the electric bill
with

for two weeks
I went to the beach
and sat alone
stared out into the ocean
for hours
until the sun burned my skin
and the sand found it's way
into my eyes
here
I allowed myself
to think for a moment
that you are only miles
away from me
just out of my reach
but safe
nonetheless

for two weeks
I looked out the bedroom window
and the kitchen window
and the living room window
all the windows I could find
searching for your car
your face
you

in two weeks we came so close
to seeing each other
and yet
we're still so far apart

for two weeks I checked my phone
two hundred times a day
I sent you texts
I knew you would not answer
or receive
and called to tell your voicemail
goodnight

for two weeks I fought back tears
in grocery stores
as I bought entirely too much food
for just one person
but I filled up the cart anyway
because what if you come home?
the milk went sour
and the bread ran dry
and I took out four bags of trash
by myself

in two weeks
I transformed a house into a home
without you
I hung decorations you have never seen
in a place you have never been
I bought furniture
without asking your opinion
on the tan sofa
or the gray one
I had to make these decisions
without you
I put together our dinner table
and ate at it alone
I found
this home feels one hundred times
more empty
with all these furnishings
that are meant to accommodate
several people
and yet
here I am
alone

for two weeks
for two months
I've waited
and god
please let it be over soon

It's been 59 days since I've seen you and I'm sitting here thinking about how we say the words "I can't" so casually. So endearingly. I can't wait to see you again. But what is promising about that? Why do we always find those words shoving out of our mouths, flying off of our finger tips. I can't wait. But we can wait, and we will wait, and we do. We always do. Without question, we wait and we wait and we wait, without promise of when it will be that we'll see each other again. Without certainty, without doubt, we wait. And this has been and always will be the case when it comes to you. So no, I can't wait to see you again, yes.
But I will.