saturday morning ramblings

8am saturday morning lemon tea
i didn't sleep well
and i don't know if it's because i miss him
or i miss me

i cried last night reading my book
because i kept reliving similar moments we shared
how we met, how we acted, conversations we had, the uncertainty
each page left me more and more nostalgic
for what, i'm not sure

lounging around the apartment in nothing but comfort
trapping ourselves in a cage of limbs, or cigarettes, or cups of tea
shooing away the world in 5am smoke, darkness and quiet belonging to us
and us only
holding hands just to make sure we're still there, he's still there, still mine
avoiding serious questions, fragile
balancing a glass vase of emotions, fears, doubts, plans
and watching it gracefully fall
examining the shattered pieces, wondering if it will ever be the same
wondering if it'll ever be the same, if we can just glue it back together
and resigning to the purchase of a new vase, smaller but it still holds everything we need
still holds the same amount of love, stem by stem, each flower plucked when ready

9am and i'm not making sense
of these feelings and thoughts
never wanting to let go or leave the house
stagnant
waiting in vain for things to move themselves
reality
facing it to balance our lives, to welcome the future, to understand the ease with which we can protect vases and the truth that there will be other vases, infinite vases that may break or stay intact
and understanding that a book is a book, my life is not a book

i'm getting tired of vases
and i'm tired of the bland day to day motions of life i endure
i'm tired of sleeping alone
and waking up
alone
of feeling constantly alone even when i'm not

[i miss being alive.]