Maybe

Maybe if I was better with words, I'd figure out how to write out what my body experiences when you walk in the room. Maybe I'd be able to explain how the image of your face in my brain floods my body with all sorts of feelings that I don't know how to communicate. Maybe I'd be able to explain what it's like to sit next to you, your leg accidentally brushing up against mine... my whole heart beats in my chest, my stomach flip flops, my palms sweat.

How many years has it been now baby?

Maybe if I was more eloquent, I'd figure out how to not fall all over myself with trying to not scream. Every single night without you feels like an eternity in suffering. It feels like I'm in a dark pit, or a pitch black room, and I'm just waiting and listening for the footsteps that I hope will come and turn the lights back on.

You're the one who has the balls to untangle the mess I make of myself. You're the person who knows how fragile I can be. You're the person who sees me at my worst, and understands the intentions and best thought out plans underneath, and knows I'll figure it out, eventually.

Maybe if I knew how to be more mesmerizing, I'd figure out how to say that your breath on the back of my neck lulls me to sleep. Maybe I'd tell you that you're the warm that wraps me in rest. Maybe I'd be able to explain that trying to sleep without you is an exercise in futility. Something happens, I don't know I'd call it "sleep".

Remember how I used to make you sleep under a different blanket from me? Remember how I used to withdraw from your touch? Remember how much I used to hate to be close? I was like a rabid person... touch was dangerous. Overwhelming. You were the gunslinger that shot that armor up.

Maybe if I was able to communicate more effectively, I'd tell you that sometimes I pretend like you're sitting here next to me. I close my eyes, wrap myself up in your clothes, and imagine... Maybe if I wasn't so ridiculous I wouldn't be embarrassed by how much that sadly comforts me. It's better than nothing.

Maybe if things were different, you'd be here and we would be tangled up, sleeping peacefully.

Maybe if you were better with words, you'd figure out how to say all this same stuff to me. But I'm not, and you're not, so we just know because we do. Some things can't be said, they have to be felt.