I ache for you.
I ache to be able to call tonight, because I’m down and I want to hear the melodies in your voice. I ache to sit with you, to be aware of your breathing. I ache to know your smell. I ache to curl against you. I ache to connect my fingertips to yours.
I long for you.
I long to be held, for your arms to protect me from the storm raging around me. I long for you to wipe tears away. I long for ‘no excuse needed’ cuddles. I long for you to tuck the hair behind my ear so it doesn’t get stuck to my tears.
I hate your children.
I have never met them, but I despise them for the role they have in your life. I hate that you brushed their hair, wiped their grazed knees and listened to the trivialities of their day. I despise that they can ring you up just because, or because they’re not feeling well and they want their mum. I hate that they get to sit and watch trashy telly with you. The idea that they get to sit curled against you feeling you breathe makes me want to scream. It angers me that you read them stories, that you pulled the covers up round their sleeping shoulders. I hate that you are proud of them. My insides boil at the knowledge that your love for them is unconditional. Nobody loves me like that.
I crave you.
I have never taken drugs but I cannot imagine the craving being more painful than this. I crave time with you, I savour every morsel of it but it is never enough, it’s always too soon before the warm glow of it runs out and I’m back in the cold, nose pressed against the glass, breathing steaming up a halo around me, waiting for the next time. My need for you is nestled in my rib cage, weighted and uncomfortable. I crave your words, your calm, the rise and fall of your breathing when mine is everything except ordered. I crave the warmth of your hands reminding mine that blood flows through us, that we live because you can feel that we are real.
I fall asleep without you.
I fall asleep listening to your voicemail on repeat, over and over. You say my name and yours, with an easy comfort like you’ve said it a thousand times before. Your voice is using a tone that you know soothes me, and it is to this soundtrack that sleep finally wins the battle. I fall into tomorrow, into another hell in waking, breathing form, awaken into my need for you being overwhelming. I fall.
I ache, I long, I hate, I crave, I fall. And yet I’m not sure you know.