What makes a particular day hard? I don't get it. Why is it that tonight I am sitting here with the tightness in my throat and a burning ebbing in my eyeballs. Nothing has changed. And then why do I fire up the Adele Pandora station, letting the musical mood draw my tears to spilling over?
It's a weird thing to think about him as once my partner and lover. I cannot imagine being naked with him. Yet I did it all the time, for years. Where did that feeling disappear to? Was I really a part of that story? Maybe it was just a novel that I read voraciously over and over. I read it so that it became a part of who I was. But since I wasn't really there, it makes sense that I don't have that specific experience to call on.
He is here sometimes and he hugs me like he is coming home from so far away. His body feels like a place I want to stay forever. I feel loved, held, cherished, appreciated. He smells like home. He feels like home. He is still the man who left us. How can I possibly feel so much peace in his arms. It makes no logical sense. And then he leaves again.
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