Missing

Dear Tall.

Last night I dreamt about us. The two of us getting on with normal life, nothing special, just the boring stuff. You were walking alongside me, but I'm not sure now where we were. It felt so real, so real that when I woke to find you missing my heart broke into a thousand pieces once more. I wish I could tell you how much I need you to hug me. How much I miss having you to talk to. How much I miss you simply loving me.

I try to visualise how it felt to have your arms wrapped around me, I try to trick my mind into believing I can feel it, but today the mind trick won't work. I know all the analogies about the box with the pain button and the one about glitter (to name but two), I recite them to myself in the hope of calming my head and heart, but ultimately what I am feeling is normal. I must be kind to myself and just let it all out. 

The enforced isolation caused by the virus does little to help, the news articles on intensive care only reminding me of the awful events of almost three years ago when I thought I had lost you. You never did truly recover, and I worry for all those who have left intensive care, with many months of recovery ahead of them. Will they struggle too? 

I watch the TV and see people's lives and stories unfold. People who have found love again, a new happiness, and I am pleased for them. For me there will only be you, the love we had can never be repeated, and I know that no one would be able to match up to you, I'm far too picky. 

You will always have my heart.

Good Cheer Pixie