A Little More Than You Needed To Know

The truth is: I miss him. I miss him with an acuteness so sharp sometimes that I’m surprised to find I’m not bleeding.

Other times, it’s a vague sort of lack, the feeling more like light clouds drifting across the sky.

The moment defined, the thought, the precipice alive

Don’t lose courage now

Let it carry you through

Home, to home

To the keyboard’s backlit glow (nice!)

Please, no, fuck! Don’t lose it now

But I’m frantic, and sharp. All razor edges and spinning wheels. I’m dashoutthedoortosuckdownacigarettebeforemynextmeetingbuymycattoysthatplaywithhimformeificanbutfeelguiltyaboutitanywaynotimetoeatnotimetoclean. I’m not calm, measured, deep breath in…and….switch to Warrior.

“I’m okay,” I tell myself. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.

I tell myself gently, like my heart is a scared animal. I tell myself loudly, like I am a man who isn’t picking up the hint. “I am okay,” I shout at myself, like you might hear it, hear the lie, like you might come running.

But at the same time, I know that telling you this would be a really terrible thing to do to you. So I write and write and write and repeat my own thoughts over and over so they stop chasing each other around my head.

And I know what you’d say. I know you’d get calm. I know you’d try to tell me it’s okay. Tell me I can say anything. Imply that I shouldn’t say that.