You Somewhere

It hurts. I won't lie and say it doesn't. Not that you asked. But I think you should know.

I will try to keep this short. I much prefer simplifying, getting something down to an essence. Which might seem callous but that is what this was. The second, the moment, when you walked through that open door, dark hair, dark clothes, fair skin, perfume inside me. Perfume that dug its way into my stomach and has been resting there ever since. A sense and a softness so singular, I deepen my breath and reduce my blinks so that I may take in as much of you as I can.

I sit in a car and move away from you against my will, traveling at an average speed through an unknown part of a nothing state that contains you somewhere. I watch the other cars that easily pass my by, hoping to see you for a final brief moment, even though I don't know what you drive or even if you drive at all.

Why am I here, and you there? Why is the world such a cruel and dark and unforgiving and treacherous place? How can something fill you up and empty you all at once and leave you feeling both ways?

This is different. We are different. We are different from how we were that night, we both said it, we aren't like that, we aren't that way. I am saying we already.

And I can only hope that if you wrote you'd be writing similar words. Maybe you do. Maybe you are. Words about a wrenching you feel. One that came quickly and without warning, a surprise that you don't fully understand but want to so badly. A question that you don't know the words to but will hopefully search for, hopefully with me, hopefully not too long from today.

I will write to you, think of you, say your name, and die.