Fragmentation

Fragment 21.)

(or I Miss It)

I woke up the other morning missing the rain. It has only been snowing for the past six months and I am sick of snowflakes. And I miss the carefree, warm drops that dare to get entangled in my hair. I went downstairs and it was raining.

Hmm

"I sure do miss having a million dollars..."

Nope. Nothing.

I miss summer nights. Bottlerocket kisses. Late night showers. I miss playing ghost in the graveyard at 2 am. Bonfires so big and bright you thought it'd grow legs and sit down next to you on the old lawn chair. Living trees with living branches. It has been forever since I have heard branches move.

I miss swimming. Or at least pools. There's something so euphoric about standing in something that could kill you but you are in control of it.

I miss late night texts with friends and partners. I miss the way we could tell secrets and stories and not get embarrassed. And if we did then that's fine because at four am we are too tired to continue talking about your girlfriend or brother's daughter or about the time we used to live together.

I miss holding hands. Fingers playing Tetris with each other, thumbs rubbing over palms. I miss being held.
The warmth of someone's shoulder brushing up against yourself. I miss feeling loved.

The sun has been gone for so long. But when she comes home I hope she will bring gifts and friends. I hope she will forgive the winter for being too cold and harsh. But while I wait for her ember eyes to wake up,

I will keep missing her.