I lay here, pillow close to mind and feet hugging blankets. But my arms hold onto to nothing. There is no shape or texture that resembles you. And as I lay here, I realize...It's not only my arms that miss you. That are afraid to lose you.
It is all my senses.
My sense of smell is searching for your scent.
My eyes are in a craze searching for your gaze.
My tongue is dry and lacks an appetite for taste unless it was your lips it were to savor.
My hearing, though already pretty shabby, has grown into a white noise. Sick of the normal sounds, it tries to find hints of you. Speaking softly and sweetly. Oh that honeydew laughter.
My voice is a monotone robot talking into a microphone made of scrap metal.
Oh, and my poor sense of touch. The nerves are dried and withered. Waiting for a touch like water to awaken a blooming sensation.
I don't need you...but I've never wanted anything more. Rocks, pebbles, buildings, everything. Until the world comes crumbling down, I want to be there with you...I hope you want the same. And can hold on. And work with me through this.
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