bsh297

I've settled here now and still nothing distracts me like you. This is so terribly unfair. I don't even know what I want to become of this, only that I write so that, for even the shortest of moments, the act would distract me, perhaps, from my thoughts of you.

I know this is an unfair note. I should say how i miss the feel of your mouth, the shape of your breast, the way my hand fit your side as I lifted you to me (and I do ... I think I could guage the rising of the sun and the appearance of the moon by the number of times each day I think...
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with you, time would slow and I wouldn't care. perhaps it was just slow for me. with her, time is just as slow but only to reveal how she is not you. in either case my motive is the same: i didn't want to take. from you, i didn't want to take the next second, afraid that it would pull with it the next one...
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Just a couple of days and I will leave the place that I never intended to be my home. All I hear about is how cold it will be where I am going. But here it's been so warm, so very strange for the winter I am leaving behind. The clock left on my wall sticks to its rhythm, urging me to forget how easily...
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I have tried to replay our story in my new surroundings. The characters adapt, the scenery dictates only new words but the plot holds true. Through it all the theme of my weakness continues. Even here, with my imagination playing your understudy, I hesitate. The pages of the script show the next line and I look elsewhere for an alternative verse. Ive had this text...
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This new Jane is different. Taller, younger, louder ... different. More than just "not you." I find that I am "not me" as well. She smiles when I speak. You did that. I'd watch you until you turned the corner. My eyes follow her as well. No one else confuses her with you, though. Yet I cannot think of her without also thinking of you....
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i am jealous of your walls, your clothes, the very air around you, anything that enjoys the sight of you, the touch of you, the weight of your perfume. That scent still anchors my movement, slowing me down even in your absence. Our separation has not released me. Our distance has not broken the tether of you to my daily breath. I am caught.