10/11/3021

Good morning, Dear One.

         Did you have to wake up again without me? I’m sorry. Would you take comfort in the fact that I miss you desperately? In the knowledge that you are everywhere for me? In the air I breathe, in the food I eat, in every movement of every person I meet. Will it help to know that your face has escaped my dreams and now teases me in every fleeting second of darkness that comes when I blink? I die, Dear One. I die each morning that I wake, my ears still hearing the ghost of your voice that haunts me in my sleep but my fingers meeting only cold sheets. I long for your warmth. Nothing can compare to the heat with which your beating heart fills me. No burning fire could ever compare to the warmth of your embrace. Has it only been four months? Surely it has been four thousand years that I have not felt your lips on mine. I long for your touch like a man starved of the sun. Because your skin against my skin is the light for me and without it I am a blind and pathetic being, lost in a dark and empty room. Are you laughing, Dear One? Sighing at these dramatic words that I could never speak in person? I wish I could see the blush on your cheek, your white skin flushing for me. Can you tell how desperate I am? How frantic I am to see you, hear you, touch you? You know better than anyone how eloquent my words look on paper. But you also know the monster caged beneath the ink, don’t you.