It has been over 3 months.
Gone, but not forgotten. Hidden in a drawer, the edge of you peeking out at me when I grab my keys and run out the door.
I have thought of you everyday.
There are 8 pieces of evidence looking at me every time I open this door. They are unfinished. Much like this.
I have a lot to say. We can't talk here. Soon.
I give you a longing look. You touch my hand and beg me to stay for one more minute. I would stay a lifetime. I will come back. I always come back, don't I?
This affair is not only a pleasure for me, but a guilty one. I do this best when I should be doing something else. When I have the time I cannot seem to connect the dots. I can't focus on you.
I won't make the time for myself. I won't give that gift to me. I don't think I deserve you. Or this. I'm not good enough. Not yet.
Soon I will brush away the last of what is keeping me. I can do it. I have to.
You believe me, don't you? I never give up on you. Don't give up on me.