You know how, when you love somebody…
You know how when you really, really love somebody
How it is that it hurts when they're gone, and you get by, and you deal with it, and if it's for a little while that they're away, it stops smarting quite so much, like it's not so fresh. And you're still sad, but okay, one day at a time, breathe. You'll get through.
And you know how it is when you see them again, and they're in your arms, and you maybe fold them tight to your chest, and you maybe bury your face in the crook of their neck and it's warm and suddenly you catch the way they smell and suddenly it all comes rushing back, fresher than it's ever been before. And you think… home… home… home.
I've felt that way before, you know. I've felt that. So have you.
When they leave again, it's sharp, in your throat, in your lungs, in your chest. Like a knife. It's sharp. It's red hot and black and white. It's like a forest fire at night. And you're the deer, knowing it's going to burn but it won't leave. It's hard wired that way.
But when I left you at the terminal tonight, I was so scared. I gave you a hug that you could barely return, partly because you're afraid of me now, afraid because you gave me your heart and neither of us knows what I'm going to do with it from here, and partly because you're exhausted.
When I left you there, I stood with my hood down in the pouring down rain, in the dark, and I watched you walk away through the revolving doors. Stepping further and further back as you got farther and farther away to keep you in my sight, till I couldn't see you anymore. Walked in the rain past those doors, watched through the window as you got in that line. Watched someone get behind you. Stared at the little glimpse of your red backpack past their arm. Stared at the rain washing down the terminal walls. Rain on my neck, not flinching. Rain on my lower back where my jacket had ridden up. I hate the feeling of the rain there, running down, shocking the senses with cold. Didn't move. Didn't really care. Couldn't see your backpack anymore. I stared around me, out of focus, waited a little more for good measure. Alone. Looked around, to see if anyone was seeing me, waiting, watching. For you. Wanting a stranger inside my world in a perversely chilly way. Feeling like if this was a movie, something would happen. Sparing myself a brief moment of self-loathing for wanting the attention, any attention, someone to give a fuck. The fat man inside the window kept reading his book. The young indie man outside kept smoking his cigarette, lost in space. No one noticed. This is no movie. Reality provides the anti-climax. Okay, it's time. Got back in my car and sat.
Remember that sharp feeling? That sharp, fresh, red-hot, forest fire feeling that you get when someone you love leaves? I didn't feel that at all. I felt nothing in my chest, in my lungs, in my throat.
The feeling I felt, it settled into my bones. Into the marrow, into the core. The dull ache. An ache that feels as old as time. No red, no white. Just blacks and grays. Like it was setting up a tent and building a fire and unrolling a sleeping bag. Like it was saying, "Hey. I'm going to be here for a while."
It's deep inside my bones, past the place in my eyes where the tears come from.
I need you too. I need you desperately. You feel like home to me too. You are my home. I do want a life with you. I'm so lost without you right now. And these are all the things I can't confirm to you because the timing is just all wrong, and I can't say those things to you now. It would only make your hurting worse, it would only make your confusion worse. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm confused. I love you.
I need you.
Why did it feel so final? I need to see you again. It's down in my bones and I can't shake it out.
