Everything You Are

March 8, 2020

I think it’s funny that we are in the same city, less than or more than 20 minutes away from each other, and I am absolutely certain that you are thinking of me as intently as I am thinking of you. Sunday nights are our nights. And I do not know if it is the woman, who came before me, the one you still love, with the fullness of who you were when you first fell into her, or if it is me who is lacking in some way that makes you want to keep me at arms length and keeps us apart on the days we both so desperately want to be with each other. I hope expectantly that it is the former. Because that, my love, can be salvaged, and you can breath, again.

Perhaps the second possibility could not exist without the first. And if that is the case, I sincerely hope that you still learn, to breath again. And fully, with whomever makes you feel like you are once again, the sun, and the stars, and the moon, and the earth.