You’re colder

The months crawl by and expand the divide between us. And I hate that, so I cling to what connects us.

I exist here, breathing in and out and feeling comforted by the fact that you’re out there somewhere, doing the same thing.

I look up at the sky, and feel solace from knowing that you’re under the same one.

I make a grilled cheese sandwich on the days when I am sad, and wonder if there’s a chance you’re making one too, because you make them when you’re sad.

I miss you on the good days, and I miss you on the bad days.

As autumn fades into winter I sometimes feel cold, and know that wherever you are, you’re colder.

I mourn at the gravestone of the version of me that I could only ever be with you.

I notice that the sting of endings historically always fades with time for me, but this one doesn’t. This one resists the natural order of things and burns brightly, seemingly eternally. And I’m comforted by that too.

I touch my own lips, knowing that you may be far away but you were once close enough to touch them. You were once close enough to collide with me.