How many ways can I say, “I miss you”?

It was hot and humid when I walked you to your car. The sky seemed to be mocking us, the sun shining in the exact opposite way I felt. You got in you car and left. I slowly walked back to my room.

The bed remained unmade, the sheets tangled. Our bodies still on the bed minutes – hours – after we’ve left. The pillows thrown on the floor with the same carefree abandon I felt when we woke up, not knowing, not caring, what the world outside my room was doing. I stayed on my side, and for days I wouldn’t be able to lie on your side. Because it was your side. Nothing but a pillow taking your place for now.

I laid my head down and felt cold. Is this what it felt like not to have your body on top of mine? Your finger prints on my skin have not washed off. The traces of your lips have not washed off. And I am reminded of your hazel eyes looking at me, searching, drinking it all in. When you kissed me with the ferocity of a thousand lions – passionate, urgent – all my breaths staggered, gasping, as you took my breath away. And you, holding me, pulling me in, far from the reality we’re putting off, as I discovered life in the nook of of your neck. My fingers lost in your hair as i remind myself to breathe.

And then you were gone. 

In Portugese, there is no way to say “I miss you.” There is only a way to say, “I feel your absence.” You are like the last song I hear before turning off the radio. The last few notes of a melody hanging in the air. You were playing in my head over and over again. It was the last form of you I had, and it lingered. You lingered.

Hell is holding you in my sleep and waking up alone. 

 

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You Were My High, Then You Were My Low

And through everything, despite everything, I cannot forget the fact that you are a guy. That you have certain needs, needs that I’ve been depriving you of, I guess. That’s why the physical stuff is easy for you, tempting even. But I need this to be clear.

How much I care about someone and how much they care about me are directly related to how physical I want to be. It’s about how much I’m willing to give to a person. This is the one thing that I alone can give and no one (ideally) should have the power to take it away from me. In a world where people can have anything they want (instantly) and buy themselves anything they need, giving myself is the only thing I can give someone fully and completely. This is when I am most naked (literally and metaphorically) and most vulnerable. This is not something I just share with anyone.

So once I realized I wanted to be with you, that I wanted to make this work, the physical stuff came naturally. And yes, maybe it’s what most of our conversations gravitate towards, but that’s because we’ve only just begun and now you’re gone. We barely started being completely intimate, and then you had to leave for work. Kind of like how the last song you’ve heard keeps playing again and again in your head. This was the last form of you I had, and it lingered. You lingered.

Is that so bad?