by Gregory Klemm
Driving to the beach the other day, you were in the car beside me and it made me happy. I was talking to you and you were smiling. I made up things that you would say and we laughed together. Without even turning to look at you, I could see you. I could feel your aura, your beautiful glow which permeated the car, filling me. It worried me when I realised what I was doing. But I didn’t stop. I talked with you all the way to the coast. Though sometimes we sat in silence, too, not needing to say anything. Just contented.
When I arrived I had tears streaming down my face. I sat in the car crying. I didn’t want to leave you. I wanted to stay in the car and just keep on talking to you. You couldn’t come with me. People would look at me strangely. They would worry about me. Well meaning people, of course. They just wouldn’t understand.
It’s been more than six months now. I hardly sleep. I go to work in a fog, and somehow muddle through the day. I don’t know how I keep going.
Every night I lie awake and talk with you. I pull you to me and I can feel you, I swear I can feel you pressed against me. And we talk about my day, and your day, and our friends, and we laugh. But sooner or later we always come back to that same topic. I don’t want us to fight, but I can’t help myself from asking. Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me here alone?
And the problem is that even though I know almost everything you would say, and I could talk to you for eternity filling in your words for you, I don’t know what you would say about that. And I don’t know what you would tell me to do. And nothing that I imagine you saying sounds right so we always end up fighting. And eventually dawn comes, and the pain and anxiety of the dark turns to a dull, throbbing ache as light slowly seeps in. Somehow I find the strength to pull myself from bed to start the day’s routine.
I love you. I miss you so much. I would give anything for you to be here with me now, because I know I could get through this if only I could just talk to you about it. I know I could find the strength to let you go, if only I could have you here to help me do it.