"Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who've never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love. Once you've felt what it means to love as you and I know it-the total passion for the total height-you're incapable of anything less."
My life plays out like a perfect movie-script ending. Simply endearing, he captivates me with every word drawing out of his mouth. Over the phone I can hear his lips tighten, and I realize what I am saying has struck a nerve. Guilt consumes me, engulfs me in its rage of fury. But his voice is calm, and soon I am soothed. After exchanging words of adoration our talk ends, and again I am alone in a dark room with my thoughts. But I am no longer crying, and instead I take a moment to breathe before drifting off into a deep sleep.
I wake during the night, only for a short instance. Long enough for him to cross my mind. Before he leaves, I make sure to take note on every feature of his face. I don't ever want to forget it. His eyes shine, with peaks of harvest orange dancing throughout. Never have I seen eyes so strong. For a time, my eyes shone a sleek electric blue, but time has altered them into a gray, dusky steel.
I don't want him to leave, I never want him to leave. But he needs to go, so I breathe deep and smile. Hiding my unhappiness isn't that easy. My facial expression is probably screaming, "don't leave, i can't do this without you" but he says nothing. It's okay this way. We don't need two people in shambles.
But I wonder what he thinks about, driving away- if his heart drops just a little, as mine does.
Today, I focus on my studies. Occasionally his presence enters my thoughts, overriding construction details and elevations. I remember his soft voice, his tender kisses, and our bodies fixed together. I wish, that one day I will be with him indefinitely.
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