Harder than most

As I write this I am sitting on the edge of a friend’s spare bed, around 45 minutes from you instead of the usual nearly 3 hours and my heart hurts. It hurts to open it so much to you, to be re-acquainted with how you smell of that aftershave and how my hand fits in the dip in your chest and for you not to be here and yet to be so comparatively close.

I cried in the plane on the way home, you knew it and passed your hanky and so soppy was I that I was happy you were taking some of me home with you. Nothing more than my tears and a faint smudge of lipstick but me nonetheless.

Long distance relationships are tough and ours is a boundaried one that has other considerations in it and I love that, I do really, but our hellos have the seeds of my tears in them and sometimes it hurts more than I know what to do with.

To love is to risk loss and hurt in the pursuit of connection and the joy of being seen and loved in return. My sense of loss today has brought all the other losses back. I remind myself that I have a good life, that any relationship needs to add to my 100% and that I do not need another to be complete..

It is all true, but what is also true is that I feel like I have lost an arm and I truly cannot imagine sleeping without your arm draped across me or my toes outstretched to yours.

The gap we leave needs a bridge built from more than I have today. Today I will look across the expanse and wait until I can feel the road back to us beginning again. Today that’s harder than most.


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