5/30/22, 12:24AM
It seems that the only time I can escape this odd kind of grief is when I am asleep.
But when my eyes are dragged open by the early-morning sun and rest, as you well know, escapes me once again, my exhaustion makes my tears difficult to distract. Especially when pictures of chicken nuggets with the caption “thinking of you” leaves me choked up and gasping for breath.
So I try to take the easy way out; I lay my head down as the midday light rises and close my eyes, trying to shake the sticky feeling of tiredness from my limbs with the sweet release of unconsciousness.
And then I feel the chill at my back, no longer remedied by warm arms and steady breaths, who, driving halfway across the country, say “I love you” for the second time ever over text. And as my traitorous tears drip onto my pillow, I pry my eyes back open; this noontide sleep is no longer a respite I can take part of, not without your presence beside mine.
The silence of text seems cold compared to the warmth of your hands around my chilled fingers and the fond look in your eyes I’d catch if I happened to glance at the right times.
I know you don’t know what to do when people cry, and that’s why I tried so hard not to when we were saying goodbyes. But as my fingers hover over the keyboard, acting as a dam for the confessions of saltwater on my cheeks, it feels as if I’m keeping secrets. Holding back information like how I held back my tears until I shut my dorm room door behind you.
I don’t trust myself to not burst into tears at the sound of your voice, so even though I offer, I secretly hope you don’t call me. At least not until this wound stops hurting so badly, until the thought of your goofy smile stops making me sob into the stuffed cow we call our son.
I type “I miss you” instead of “you setting a timer on your watch so that I take care of my neck made me ugly cry on my un-vacuumed floor.”
I miss you like an absent limb, but I know that it’s just temporary. Just until fall. I can wait until fall. And while this love hurts like a bitch, I wouldn’t trade it for the world, tears and all. I just might have to start drinking more water to make up for it.
Speaking To Raindrops 