just a PS

It was especially bad at parties- this niggling feeling that something was not quite right. What else could it be except that you weren’t with me, and I was stuck somewhere with a hundred different guys that should’ve been you, but weren’t.

I knew I had finally reached a turning point when I found myself able to speak to guys without feeling as though I was betraying you. But every now and then, in a small still moment where you would’ve stroked my arm, covered my hand with yours, or even just grinned, something within me panged. And I’d disappear into another room, if I could, or, if that wasn’t possible, inside myself, and think about another time, another place.

It happened again tonight. It’d been such a long time since I’d felt your absence exert a presence on my heart. For some odd reason, in the way that art imitates life, and not the other way round, it was raining in a poetic beauty, and the last glimpses of the summer day were being washed away in a wintry rain. On my way to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but pause at the open door, watching the night rain melt into the granite paving outside, trying to flood its emotion away into stone. The slight chill made me miss the warmth of your hugs, and I wondered if somewhere out there, you too were standing at a doorway, waiting for me to appear


~ by translating for peas on January 6, 2010.

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