I replay his every word, over and over again, hoping to find reason in between each breath. His sighs keep me awake. In the morning, I pray that when I flutter my eyelashes, I'd be in his arms, that he'd be feathering me from my fingertips to the top of my shoulder, as my legs would be wrapped in between his. I awake, reach out to find emptiness. Then I await for him to come from behind and kiss me on my cheek, as I lay. I await to hear, "Babe, shower?" I await for him to sit right by me on the couch, as I eat Special K, spill some milk on my knee, he'd laugh, lean over and kiss off every drop.
As the sun sleeps, I await even longer for him. To fit perfectly in between, to gently kiss me from my knees to my forehead, to stare into my eyes as we exhale. "Spoon!"
I tell myself it will get easier. The distance will help right? Outside voices try to pierce through, "maybe he wasn't the one" and "it wasn't love" but I can hardly differentiate the voices, for pain wins as the loudest.
I relive to live. I await to listen to him breathe. The weight of his unspoken words root the greatest story never told. For what I believe Love to be.. I fell for Love the minute I ran into him.
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