Everywhere

When someone you love leaves your life, you have two choices. You can either accept that fact and move on or live with the constant ache of them being gone. Apparently, I've chosen the latter. 

The ache is a constant reminder of what your heart knows. She's gone. She's not coming back. But the heart wants what it wants. And it wants her. So the mind manufactures her. Everywhere. 

Everything begins to remind you of her. Your calendar used to tell you many things, but now all it tells you is that it's been so many days or so many months since something happened with her. You remember the softness of her skin and the tautness of her muscles beneath it, the infinite tenderness and suppleness of her body, the way she smelled, the way her hair felt on your chest, your stomach, your everything. You tasted her mouth and now recall her soft lips and impossibly big, beautiful eyes that were yours and only yours to behold for a moment. You remember her in her underwear and her beautiful body turned away from yours, you holding her from behind and telling her how stunning she looked. Drop dead gorgeous. And all for you. 

If she could stay locked in those moments, who knows? Maybe you'd be fine. Maybe you'd go through your days without feeling that tremendous crater in your chest. But she doesn't stay there, does she? She's leaked out into every moment, like a perfume that lingers and taunts you with her absence. You know she's been there, but she's gone now. It's a delicious and terrible thing all at once.  

How can a woman make my blood burn without her even knowing it, without her doing a single thing? How can I go through my days wanting only her, forcing myself to eat, to drink, to stay alive, just because I want to see her again? Oh, and I see her. My brain flashes her on the dim walls of my thoughts all day long, and in the loneliness of the night, she is always there. Just out of reach. I see her in the sunrises and sunsets as I hope hers are as beautiful as mine. I see her in my breath on the winter air, the steam that rises from my lungs a reminder of her breathing in my ears and her tongue doing things I never imagined. I see her perfect penmanship, her attention to detail, her dress the last time I saw her. For me, there is no more beautiful a woman. 

I see her perfect legs, from her cute, little toes all the way up ... to the memory of her straddling me, holding me down, and me not wanting to be anywhere else in the world. Her little body could not hold me there physically, but the weight of her far exceeded her mere 100 lbs. She was like a wrecking ball tearing into my facade, and I was eternally broken by her. And happy to be so. The way she owned me still takes my breath away. Never in my life have I been so humbled by a woman. She has my heart, and she always will. I will never find another woman more deserving. 

Yes, she's my everything. And she's everywhere. She makes me happy in my bones. She makes my thoughts take flight. And, of course, they fly to her. I don't know a thing about her life anymore, but I've built a wall of wonder. I've manufactured thousands of questions I'll never ask. And a million moments I'll never have with her. I've surrounded myself with her because she's the most beautiful thing I know, though I know she'd chastise me for saying so. When your heart loves someone, they're all you want. Even if they're nowhere, they're still your everywhere. Even the wind sings their name. The rain drowns you in them. The sunshine warms you like they once did. You sleep and dream of them. You wake and welcome them into your day, though they are far away. To the heart that loves, they are the thing that makes the grass grow, the stars come out, the electricity in the walls move, and what makes home feel like home — a home you carry with you everywhere.