possessive

it’s late (early?) and I could use a cigarette, but my limbs are all hot and lethargic from sitting in this cramped position for so long, reading nonsense on the internet instead of cuddling with my book as I had intended.
my heart feels a little raw, I could use that warm-voiced "you’re beautiful",
or maybe the security of his thick forearm pulling me tighter, even in sleep. i wonder if he still looks exhausted all the time, if he still is meticulous with his softball gear, if he still pours tall glasses of iced tea or lemonade. i miss his warmth; it always worked out because my hands were cool on his flushed skin, and his warm fingers rubbed the chill out of mine. it is the tiny moments now, not even the big ones.
i have a penchant for trying to extract comfort from these things. it’s alright in small doses.

"no one loses anyone, because no one owns anyone".
a wisdom i have been struggling with, but slowly understanding.

tonight is a night crafted of nostalgia. sometimes i stare at the stars and i feel like if i tear my eyes away and look around, he’ll be standing right there. that inexplicable, transcendental bond that I still sense, even now, causes me to curse softly at the night.
more than anything, nights like tonight mean that i should rest my eyes, my heart, and resume a smiling face tomorrow.

i don’t take things for granted any longer, and i swear i am not swallowed by the past.
i was happily shopping all day, and expertly deflecting the pangs of melancholy in my rain-drenched car, and smiling absurdly at my nephew’s giggles of innocence, and reading affirmations. i did well today.

but this time of night is the resting place of nostalgia.
the time where the heart aches, and the soul whimpers.
where the strong face of the daytime crumbles into a weaker model.

I wish I could have sank to my knees in a blissful field of yellow roses,
instead of at the base of the Statue, cradled in the calm Tuesday darkness.
It has taken three days for that image to work its way through my blood.

I have a Voice and I have every intent to use it.
What others think of that — of me — is none of my business.

Love,
Amanda