Dedicated to Douglas
I crave you in ways that I don't even know about you. I miss you in things that I've never felt you do. I need you in ways that you have never fulfilled. I want you here.
Its stupid-it's selfish-and so unrealistic but my heart grasps on to this fictitious reality that my mind forbids it from creating.
I have never felt your touch but, God, do I want to. I want it in the most innocent of ways; running your fingers through my hair in the blue hours before dawn, wiping away my tears, grabbing my waist out of pure instinct.
The romantic suicide that are these thousands of miles between us will always drag me back to the reality that this--we--could never work, will never work, but I don't like falling from the high.
I can feel your fingers laced between my own and your sweet, sleepy breath graze my neck as you dream. I can feel your perfect lips match with mine.
But the truth is
I go about my days without you here. Without those big blue eyes to stare into, or your warm voice that sounds like home to call out my name.
I don't know the feeling of your hand in mine and I don't know the blessing of falling asleep in your arms.
I've never felt your heartbeat and I've never kissed those beautiful lips that so wonderfully beg mine. I've never met you, but I know you in the most intimate of ways.
You plague my mind with thoughts of late night escapades and beautifully sleepy kisses. I am infinitely jealous of those who can see you everyday and touch you in the purest of ways. Those who have held your gaze, I want nothing more than to look at you, to hold you so close to me, to make time feel as though it's stopped. To live and breathe and thrive through each other's existence.
To no longer wonder if the suffering of being without you has been worth all the while.
