You know, we don’t get to have this often. It doesn’t happen every year. I was reading Grief Is The Thing With Feathers, and remembered that losing someone we love is like loosing someone to death. One must bereave the person. But I haven’t lost you. We never said goodbye because we lost our love. We said goodbye because we had to. I don’t want to feel grief.

Just two hours in the evening, making her come while looking straight into her eyes. I feel like I haven’t been this close to anyone for so long. Yet she insists on keeping distance. I already miss her, and I know she’ll be away and will be missed more. I wonder what I’m supposed to do. I love waking up next to her. I love hugging on the couch. I love cooking together. I feel at ease around her and with her around, I’m so much more balanced in my normal life. I once almost wrote to her, “BTW, you know what I realised? You make me happy to look forward to time on my own , too. Strange, but true.”

As always, afraid of the dark, afraid of the light, just here alone again. I know it wasn’t a dream, but it seems so far away. Patience is really hard and I am afraid to ask too much of her time. It think of her often. A few nights ago, I wanted to hold her hand when I went to sleep. It was both wonderful to think and painful not to be able to do it.

In my dream, invited someone over, and I wasn’t sure if was H. It was weird, as if I was so lost in all the people that I could somehow invite the wrong person. I even kissed her before realising it wasn’t H. What a weird dream. Am I meant to mess things up like that? I am so conscious how I messed it up last time, with A. Being with others. Or letting others get in the way. I’m not doing that now. I need to focus and I want to have that time with her only.

Sweet, gentle caressing. Slow, tender lovemaking. It was beautiful to hold her in my arms. She has an amazing place, full of memories and careful attention to detail. I felt so privileged just to be invited, to see. I loved how she prepared, gin tonic and all. It was beautiful to ask her to let go, and seeing her let go. A moment that will remain for long. So lush, so tender. I don’t want anyone else.

A brief moment of kindness, a long held contact through the eyes, a few moments of laughter. You are beautiful and I want to get to know you. I don’t think you realised the flower, I don’t think you noticed. Maybe you just thought it was an accident. Maybe you think of me sometimes.

I went to a club, and I remembered the club we went to together, how I treated you, how you didn’t talk about, how I biked home alone that night. I remembered being unsure, but you were still there. I miss all those days I could spend with you. They were so special. I remember waking up next to you, playing, making love, enjoying our bodies, our selves. Lately I have been thinking that in the old days, I would always say that I don’t regret anything, that everything was good the way it turned out in the end. I no longer think that. Have I changed? Have the world spinned around too much for me to be able to say that? Has it entangled itself and me with it to the point where I want to go back to where it all started? But there is no going back. I never thought about that before, wanting to go back. But now I really want to. Time really is a terrible master. It just goes on, terribly, uncontrollably, marches on and we cannot stop or turn it. It ticks around and I’m bound by it, a hostage to it.

I am sometimes unsure why I’m here, why I keep doing all of this, it feels like some charade, some elaborate disguise of my own emptiness, that it all ought to end. I am tired, I want to go home. I just want it to end.

Your white skin with sun spots, your never-ending questions, your care at remembering things. Your red nail polish and your openness to new ideas, hovering around me while I sleep, visiting me in my daydreams. I like spending time with you and I sometimes wonder how I got here, waiting, for the next time I get to be near you.

She demands me her name, she looks for the cracks and they are there, she looks down the abyss and finds that it’s deep and terrifying. I’m there, with everything, the good, the bad, I’m naked and she is still holding her cards close to herself. I’m sad, I feel that she is trying to find a fault. I wasn’t enough and I’m not sure why, I wish I had known, I wish I had more time. I wish I could have taken it slowly. I hoped that telling all the things at once would make it easier, but there are no shortcuts, it’s either the long, winding road, or nothing. I got the nothing and it hurts, and I’m now afraid it will take forever to recover. I’ll miss her. Fuck, I will really miss her.

Is it her? Is it not? Am I making a mistake, thinking of her? Am I just chasing another dream? I’m too tired for this. I’m only here for a short while. I’ll be gone and then there’ll be nothing again. Just emptiness in this vast space, with almost nobody caring. Why the hell am I doing this? I wish I knew. I wish I knew.