The Contrast of White on White

You miss everything now more than you thought you would. The people are cold and no one smiles. But more than a bed that doesn't kill you, a shower that isn't an entire room, and cold drinks, for the love of god, you miss him. So. Much. There's so much you wanted him to have, so much you wanted him to experience with you here. And now that you're homesick, you have this quiet feeling that he could make anywhere home.

But the messages you trade that send chills down your spine sometimes leave you shamed. And your eyes fill with unreasonable requests that you never voice because you agreed to this too. You know what you sacraficed to get whatever he would give, any piece of him. But then he talks about staying together, a simple matter of convenience for certain, and nothing more than you've already had...but you could forget, just for a moment...because he brought it up, even though there's nothing concrete. And he sends pictures he's found of when he was little, that boyish smile still the same even with all its seen.

And when you're left, grasping at air and checking too often for responses that always take too long to come, you remember the sight of him stepping into the shower, soaking through his favorite shorts and pulling you in so you could taste the skin of what was breaking your heart.