No Title Necessary

My lover had returned.

The gnawing distance, those uncatered hours, the sleepless nights when I could've used his arms to wipe over my darkest memories, instead I was mourning for that I envied his absence the most.

I cried because I was overwhelmed that I left at the first instance of space. For he returned to a small box of love, and all the space he climbed back into, that crawling space I left for him in my devious attempt to feel safe. He spoke nothing of it. Lifted the box with ease, pushed it aside, and nuzzled his head close to my heart.

Yes, it beats. yes, he confirms, yes but not as fervently as it did once.

Little by little, something in me became tired. Not angry, not bitter but just tired.

Tired of waiting. Tired of making excuses for things that kept hurting me. That was the moment I slowly started to let go.