And of course, I wonder if you miss me.

Because in this slice of life purpose built for two, I miss you. Terribly, with an empty longing and a burning fever, like a summer sickness curling cruel into the longest and most beautiful night. 

This bed was meant to be shared, the shower space enough for more than my rough frame, a breakfast table always with silverware to spare and that seconds-too-long wondering look of every goddamn waiter who asks who I’m waiting for.

I know you’re not coming. I know you’ll never be here. I’ve grown accustomed to this loneliness, but the rest of the world has not. The rest of the world sees fit to remind me, at every twist and turn, of your absence. This world hammers each and every nail into my foolish heart with enthusiasm and aplomb better belonging to warriors and conquerers, but my heart needs no thunder, feels no bloodlust - only the gentle time, the endless sand, the smooth rhythm of the sea singing to waters she long ago left behind. 

These past few weeks, it all boils down to nights like this. Sitting on the patio with a worn laptop, busy fingers typing love letters that shall go unread, while all around me love echoes out so loud that I can barely hear the surf. I’d plug my ears, but I fear the silence would be every bit as deafening. 

This entry will make so little sense to so many of you. I’m sorry.