Words in Magma

There is much I want to say everyday to you.

Apologies, stories about my life, the kids, my hopes.

But mostly just to hear your voice.

I miss it’s cadence, the soft sway of your voice and hearing your words.

You have beautiful words, I remember and cherish them.

I still have that photograph of you that you sent me years ago in that purple/blue dress in your backyard.

I miss you my dear, this I can not deny.

All these thoughts harbor that part of myself buried deep and away from prying eyes.

You were never part of my sex addiction, because my addiction didn’t involve love.

I love you just the way you are, this will not change nor could it.

That day in the hotel reading you Neruda. Reading words which trampled me with each syllable as guilt flooded me.

Knowing I could have nothing but a thief’s portion of your time.

Often I think about calling you at work, surprising you but that alone is too stalkerish for me to do.

So to answer your question, yes there is a place in me which you will always hold and a room with a door ajar because I need these slivers of time past to be shot through my consciousness.

I saw your photograph from your wedding day, you look as I expected; beautiful.