I want your hugs; your body curled up in mine, safe and content as the scent of your lovely hair fills my nostrils. I miss you, my love, but soon I will be there, holding you tightly and gently humming a slow melody saturated with sentiment and beauty. Or perhaps gently whisper the lines of a poem I have written for you, from which I have many to choose from.
Everything falls beneath the reign of countdowns that constantly reset once the counter reaches zero, transitioning from one event to the other with hardly a breath’s space between. Mine currently waits to behold true beauty unfiltered and hold her hand for the span of two weeks until duty carries me away once again, flips the hour glass, and begins the countdown anew.
Just a day at a time. I can make it. I’ve fought for you so long, but now the real battle begins. Here comes the application of strength that society has told me for years I’ve been lacking, and you’re the only one whose words have clashed with that particular perspective.
You’re the only one who’s truly believed in me, even when I had no reason to believe in myself. You see me in my entirety as if I am some novel placed before you and you’ve dived so willingly into the story of who I am and what I am capable of — a hidden chapter that perhaps I’ve missed and nobody else has bothered to even skim through. You have no idea how much of a blessing you have been, and will continue to be, to this heart of mine, and I have no way of accurately expressing all that you mean to me.
I love you. Perhaps, just maybe, those words cover all that remains unspoken, or perhaps unspeakable that no pen could ever capture.
I. Love. You.
This countdown expires in five days. I have no need, yet, to look ahead to the next one. Not until my time with you has come to an end.