To my one and only lover.

Sometimes I feel I have hurt you in ways I cannot amend. Sometimes I feel you misunderstand what I say. Sometimes I really think you don't know the worst part in me.

And that is most possibly because when I am with you, I am a better person.

Sometimes I feel like you are so irreparably far away from me. And I want to be close, so close I won't be able to differ where my blood is in my veins and where it is in yours.

That hurts me. Even if I can hear your voice and technology cooperates and your voice sounds just like it would if you could whisper your loving words in my ear. It hurts me because when I hear your voice, I expect the touch of your hand in my skin to follow, I expect the warmth of your body to ignite me.

It saddens me to see and hear you but not to touch your skin, smell your hair, taste your lips. It saddens to be remembered that we are apart.

I hate and love to talk to you until I fall asleep, but as soon as I do, my arms automatically reach for you, and they never find you. I hate that I don't sleep. I just stay in bed, waiting.

Waiting for something terrible to happen maybe, listening for a robber and preparing to dial 911, but most of all, waiting for you to knock in my door and greet me with the kiss I have been waiting for, although rationally I know you are impossibly far away. So far away it hurts.

But then, rationalism is a terrible thing. I prefer to dream about you.

And even if the distance is almost impossible to take, and even if my heart is always tight with wait, it is all worth it.

The wait is the fee I have to pay for this undying, infinite, glorious love that we share. And I pay it gladly every nanosecond of the day. The price is not cheap. In fact it is almost extortion, but I would pay it over a thousand times because you are worth every ounce of pain.

But some days I need some quiet and one of those days was today.