My X. I miss her. I miss the smell of her hair, sweet like peaches. I miss her words – soft metaphors of autumn; of dancing in the sun; of exploring the contours of my lips like a continent. I miss my hand on her thigh, her hand on my arm, my hand on her waist, her hand on my abdomen, my hand in the nape of her neck, her hand in my hair, our lips. I miss her early morning visits when I’m still in my pajamas, my hair a mess. I miss our quick half-hour lunches. I miss her singing behind me in church. I miss our late night chats about possible futures. I miss what could have been. I’m missing only the good stuff.
We broke up because of me coming to Korea. It became clear that the long distance relationship would not work. So while I am here there is no getting together again. And I will be here for at least two years, God-willing.
So all that remains are silly little ponderings over the what-could-have-beens and tunnel-vision musings of the good things, rather than the bad things, we had in our x-relationship.
aaawe...you should tell her that and get back together :)
ReplyDeletethat was beautiful.
ReplyDeleteYou think she misses you too?
Maybe you should tell her what you tell the blogmune?
Or, is it something that wasn't meant to be?
Dit was 'n pragtige stuk skryfwerk .. so reg uit die hart. Ek voel sommer saam met jou hartseer!
ReplyDeleteThank you all for the compliments and cheer-ups.
ReplyDeleteKhatija and Neko, to answer you...
We broke up because of me coming to Korea. It became clear that the long distance relationship would not work. So while I am here there is no getting together again. And I will be here for at least two years, God-willing.
So all that remains are silly little ponderings over the what-could-have-beens and tunnel-vision musings of the good things, rather than the bad things, we had in our x-relationship.