Tuesday, January 13, 2009

When an ocean sits right between us

How do you write a swallowing heartache? How do you convey the emptiness left behind, the no-one-else-is-home-ness, the reality of letting him go because this is what he was made for?  

All along I knew I would have to--let him be less mine and more Soldier.  So he is now, far away for too long.  And it isn't fair because I want to know he is always safe, and selfishly, because I want his eyes to start my days and for his quiet breath to end them.  I want to be able to touch and smell and kiss him and to forget my awkward so-long and the reasons I had to do it.  

It's hard describing the way your emotions hijack any notion of self control when you have had to imagine him leaving with your heart in one of his velcro pockets.  The tactful threads wear thin and fray and just when he needs you to be the strongest, you're burned out and completely transparent.

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