“Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying...” he gently whispers to me, softly stroking my hair, soothing my fears, my overwhelming sorrows. That feeling, that indescribable, indefinable something... perhaps nothing. A hopelessness, a sort of sense of eternal loss. It is a crushing fear, a paralyzing thought. You never know when this might be your last moment. The last hug. The last kiss. The last goodbye. The last night. Together forever... or not.
Trembling sobs wrack my body – I cling to him, desperate, afraid, of things unsaid, of voices silent. I cry because I love him. It is that simple. It is that profound. It is consuming. It is everything. And without you, life seems empty, unbearable, not even worth living.
Falling in love is not happiness. Or not just happiness. It is cruelty. A fight. A struggle. It is being scared of tomorrow, it is of worrying, it is of not wanting to let that person go – for who knows when you might see them again. But it is also safety and comfort and contentment. Of gushing joy, starry eyes, actual dreams made into even better reality.
Love is undeserving. I don’t feel worthy. And yet he loves me still. Despite it all – the failing every day. It is unbelievable. I am beyond thankful – beyond thankful...
He wipes my tears and smiles, “Darling, it is only a week...” but I cannot stop. It flows uncontrolled, spilling forth from the breaking recesses of my fragile heart. Feeling vulnerable without him, “Please don’t go!” I beg. But go he must...
A week. Just seven days. Not long. Yet is stretches out before me with no end in sight. A shuddering sigh, a silver drop, a kiss goodbye.
