Angel,
I don't care if I wasn't going to write first this
morning. I don't care if I was going to be strong and wait for your text. I
don't care if it is compulsion or weakness that bend my will to put my thoughts
and feelings to words. Words that I will send to you through air and space and
hope that they reach you and are heard as if I whispered them to you.
I will put this message in a bottle and in a grey morning
toss it into an unseen ocean. I can picture you opening this message, bent over
cupped hands - perhaps in a car, or sitting on a row of chairs at the departure
gate. I hope than when you do read this that you can imagine yourself elsewhere
with me.
I hope that you can imagine a dimly lit room with a
wooden slat bed, white sheets, and a close comfort. Your curls and the scent of
you on a down pillow. I hope you can feel me holding you close and the soft
press of my lips to your neck just below the ear. The words that I whisper to
you are breathed softly into your neck to
drift across your skin and float to your ear - my words felt as much as
heard...
"I could stay here forever. I am going to miss you very much - more than
I can say. I will be here for you and very happy when you come back. I love
you."
Have a good trip. Be safe.
Just me
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