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05.10.08

Every day the same thoughts circle through my mind. They're like my favourite CD that I can't hear enough of. My eyes smile. People ask what I'm thinking about. I tell them its nothing. These are my thoughts. My secrets. Secrets that were created with you.
I would love to scream it to the whole world, but attempting to put it into words would vanquish the affection I feel towards them. These are at the very center point of my interior. These are the only thoughts that never drift away, not even for a second. The only thoughts that won't allow me to clear my mind. They cluster before me as I try to sleep and fill my dreams with nostalgia.
I feel your warmth and inhale your scent. My heart tries to catch your beat and the thought of you lifts my soul. And then I'm pulled back into reality. You're still floating at the back of my conscious but you've been reduced to a memory. I want to bring you back, to feel you there even when you're not. My throat aches and my head pounds, I can feel my forehead creasing. But I force myself not to cry.
I can't get out of bed for fear the memories will be forgotten, even for an instant. I lay there, hugging my pillow, trying to bring you back to me. These thoughts should be real. Waking up to your angles casually holding me in place at your side. Your cheek scratching mine in a gentle way. Instead I awake to nothing; a pillow and blankets whose warmth is not nearly as fulfilling as yours.
I finally get up and peel my clothes off. I step into the pounding water that seers my skin, but this heat is not nearly as intense as yours. As the water evaporates I write your name in a heart on the steamy shower wall and smile to myself. The hot water pours down my back trying to relax my aching muscles. It fails because my entire being never stops aching for you.
Every day when I get home I hope for a hint that you're thinking of me too. I hope that you understand this pain and this pleasure, combined into a warped sense of fear that has been trapped by ecstacy. The ache hurts but without it I'd be lost. Its the only thing that keeps me from believing that the joy was imagined. No pain could be felt in such levels without an equal sense of joy.
I'll hope that maybe just once you'll call me and tell me a secret. And I'll count down each day until I see you. When that day finally comes I'll forget what I wanted to do and what exactly I needed to say. And each time the process repeats and I'll always regret that I never let you know exactly how I feel.