There is a force in the arch of your foot that pushes you forward when you run in the sand,
a steadiness in the eyes that see the sun before it fully shakes the colours of sleep from itself into the sky.
There is reward in the ability to revel in starting the day with eyes a little heavier,
a compromise in times command to be more important than comfort.
There is a depth deeper in the palm that desires the direction of the earth,
a willingness that runs wilder in the palm that awaits the rain.
There is more truth from the tongue that doesn’t twist,
a likeliness of lies from the breath of shallow lungs.
You miss him. More than the first night, more than the second, more than the fourth. So much it hurts but you can’t break free. All you can concentrate on is your breathing while the situation grips you tighter than the demons that sleep with you in bed, hugging you tighter in the morning – telling you to stay with them a little longer. The world doesn’t need you today. But it’s not like that. It’s all consuming, mind numbing, nearly paralyzing sadness. You only cried once this time, it is not the overwhelming kind of anguish that swirls itself like rising ocean tides into every corner of your being just begging to be let out. This is the dry desert heat draining you of your will and resolve. Your chest gets tighter but never tight enough to stop the breath. Your mind gets blanker staring at the same blue wall.
You miss him. At 11PM when he’s laying beside you and you wait too long after eating ice cream to kiss him with a cold mouth, because somehow that means “I love you” without having to say it. You miss him when he’s lost in his thoughts or when you’re lost in yours and the only good thing is that you get the missing in now. You’re begging the universe that you won’t have to too much in the future. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you miss him the most right before he tells you he has to leave at 6:30AM to move the care because even though nothing changes your mouth is now warm, and wet, and lonely and you’re forgetting what it’s like to have his words melting on your tongue. Even though you swore everything he said was tattooed on the inside of your cheek. You miss him when the bed is empty and warm.