Imperfect harmonies

I want you because there aren’t any good words for who you are. The only ones that come to mind are earnest, sad clichés like ‘amazing’ and ‘magnetic’ and ‘fascinating’ and I don’t want to use them, but on the other hand they are the only words, and cliché or not they are honest words and I’m not sure consulting a thesaurus at this point would be genuine. And it’s not that I want you officially, like I want your last name or your Sunday mornings or your hard shiny promise, I just want to absorb you. I want to know what you know, want to hear your stories, want to filter through them gently and get lost in them, them and the soft hypnosis of your hands in my hair.

The present you ignore eventually becomes the past you cling to.

Like a little warm coal in my heart burns your saying that you miss me. I miss you oh so much. How much, you’ll never believe or know. At every moment of the day. It is painful but also rather pleasant, if you know what I mean. I mean, that it is good to have so keen and persistent a feeling about somebody. It is a sign of vitality.

I miss you already. I missed you even when I was with you. That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.