A day does not go by without me thinking of him. How perfect we can all get to be seen through loving eyes.
While I daydream, my nonexistent children have his eyebrows, his ears and his hair.
A sweet little word from him is treasured to last for all the days when ordinary words not spoken by poets in love are the only ones that reach my eyes, my ears.
What we’ve had and what we could have, I miss. I selfishly care deeply about his life, may he live long and healthy so I won’t have to miss him even more. I want him to be happy, hoping I can contribute a little with that; and curiously, I’ve discovered that some of that happiness bounces back to me.
I can’t stand him and I want him to change at times. I want him back at those precious minutes that I’ve witnessed. I want him to want time with me, as I do -as I want food-. I want to understand, to bear, not to doubt, to cope… not to want more.
And yet I fail, wanting more.
The feeling of giving up returns along with tears.
Once and again…
– The thing is, my dear…
Does he love you back?