All Your Tousled Hair

Before our colleague pointed out that you shaved your face clean, I noticed it first this morning.

Seeing you with that freshly shaven face with clean-cut hair, I felt a certain kind of betrayal. A betrayal which I am not allowed to feel under any capacity -- a certain kind of betrayal that only works when you are officially attached to the other person. A feeling that is not mine to have yet I feel it all the same. Similar to how you can never be mine but I am overflowed with what I am feeling for you.

Seeing you made me recall all the things that I want to do with you. All I want is only simple things, like running my fingers through your tousled wavy hair, feeling your beard on my skin, helping you pick out that right backpack to replace your overused one, wrapping my arms around your waist while placing my head to that spot under your chin in front of your neck that was especially made for me, sharing a bottle of sake after a particularly rough week, and other domestic stuff that feels tangible but impossible at the same time.

I'm still wondering, my glorious, have you ever wondered about these domestic stuff? The kinds of which I wished for. The kinds of which I still wish I could experience all of these with you. The kinds that will only remain alive in my head perhaps until the end of time.

If the circumstances were different, would you pursue me or would you still play that mind games? Would you give us a chance? Would there any gaping noticeable space that currently exist between us? Or would we burn in flames together trying to match each other's challenges.

There are a lot of things that I want from you. Things that unfortunately cannot come to fruition.

I want more than just one glorious sunset; I want everything, the suns, the moons, the stars, all the atoms, all the raging sea, thunderous sky, calming forest, peaceful mountains, and everything in between that makes the universe of us--of you and me (decisively not you, me)

Darling you still are all my spaces, all my paragraphs, all my sentences, all my pages, and all my gaps.

I still miss you. Will always miss you.