There are dew drops rolling between my fingers when I think of you- the sun is coming up and the grass is newly wet. There's a thin line between the layers of time; translucent stars and purple skies are coated upon the sun-scorched clouds of a new day. You're up there in the stars somewhere, tucked in bed, living out your dreams and blissfully ignorant of the world. I reach for a hand that isn't there, a touch that cannot comfort me. The familiar cut wells open again, impossible to sew shut; memories of your hand in mine, pinning me softly to the bed. Making silly faces for a camera on that first night because we don't know what to do. You falling asleep on my chest on the train ride home and me kissing your head while little kids watch us one row forward. These are days I will never have back, days I cannot relive in your face every day. On your side of the country, the stars and dreams are heavier. Here, reality sets every stone bare as the sun burns brighter into the morning.
The day blazes through and I get lost in the hustle and bustle of too much to do. I shuffle through papers and phone calls, breeze through dorm buildings and polite conversations with the custodians. Evening comes and my suite is alive with the sounds of conversation, clinking bottles, and happy people. It's easy to sit down and lose myself, but you punctuate my every moment; my phone vibrates and a little surge of joy reminds me of how much I wish you were here.
Evening settles into night with a contented sigh. The dew drops between my fingers have been replaced with a small green pig and the smell of your cologne. The stars painted into the sky are the same here and thousands of miles away. I have cleaned my cut for the day; I am numb to the pain and awash in the memory of your face when I ditched my friends and ran to you for that first hug. When I close my eyes, I know you are doing the same all those miles away. Your phantom arms are around me and I know that I will never regret; this is the only choice I could never abandon.