.saturday.

I turn to late-night conversations, laughter and honesty combined.
I turn to early-morning coolness and dew, speaking of hope, new every day.
I turn to cat, who trusts in me day in and day out.
I turn to music, keeping the beat to my heart, my feelings, my body.
I turn to sleep, resting my weary self, though restless, being the empty half of a whole.
I turn to work, to engage my hands and brain in service, something other than these thoughts that turn over and over, concluding the same each time but not sure how.
I turn to prayer, which feel so familiar, yet so foreign, and I try to open my heart up from its clam shells closed tight.
I sleep, I clean, I hydrate, I walk, I work, I sleep, all the while checking for the text that isn't there, the call that I know isn't coming, the missing hug that would hold me, the look that makes my heart shift within it's cage...
I know I could do this indefinitely, just me, just the rhythm of my heart, my routines, and I could be okay. But I miss so much the color of her lips
the depth of her eyes
the softness of her cheeks
the smell of her skin
the feel of her frame next to mine.
The thoughts shared in process, in hope, in fear, in truth.
The connection between us, that strong bond of her heart and mine.
Presence. So much in one person.

So much...