In The Garden

There will always be a part of me that will miss him. Miss what he could have been, what we could have been, what I could have been. I've always been the sort of person to jump all in and with him it was no acception. From a gentle touch to a chemical dependency on him. On chilled winter mornings as the early sterile light peeks through the shades I reach for him. The peace of sleep sheltering me from the fact that he's no longer lying next to me. I miss his softness against my own, his scent being the first thing I drink in as I greet a new day. I miss the way rays of light would illuminate the reddish bands that would loop through his wild curls. I miss the way we'd shake the sleep from our eyes, tangled up in blankets, holding onto the comfort that for this moment we're not alone. I find I find my days longing for your touch again. Memories tempt and tease me, as I thin of the delicate rose colour of your cheeks. I miss the way I would fall asleep to the sound of your delicate breathing. I'd lay against you, listening to the beating of your heart. Neither of us could have foreseen the fork in the road that would force us to choose between personal growth and a love that always felt so right. I find myself agonising over the what-ifs, coming down from a euphoria to realise the silence without you is deafening. Your secrets flow through my veins and I wonder if you're affording me the same confidentiality. I never imagined the gaping wounds that would be left in my psyche in your absence. In my private moments, I find my thoughts are once again drawn to you. Working the shampoo through my hair, I remember how you'd work your fingers down my spine, following the path of the suds. I'd bask in your sensuality as I kissed the water dropplets rolling down your cheeks. Now as I recall the way we through it all away on thrills, we're we just young or were we selfishly perverse, staring down the invenitable in our arrogance, believing that we knew better than time. And I wonder if the seperation was because of me, my growing confidence or was it your overindulgant nature? Was your desperation to be loved and my pulsating need to consume the roots of our destruction? I can't bring myself to ever regret a moment I spent with you; the ups and downs, all the things that I did to you and all the things you did to me. Our scars and bruises tell the truth, they tell the tale of two people who coudldn't have been more right or more wrong for one another. Sexuality, gender idenitites and societies views of relationships never made sense to us. Maybe in ignoring any and all social constructs, putting all our trust in hopes and dreams was the reason things began to fall apart. I wonder if you're feeling the same sort of confusion and iscolation that is running through me. Who would have thought something good will feel so awkward and uncomofortable. Will we ever move past this period of adjustment, transitioning into something better than before? When my thoughts slow down before I close my eyes to sleep, I wonder what things will be like on my own. I wonder if our paths will once again, cross and become intangled with the drama that kept us busy before.