Time’s passage grows more obnoxious with each day we are apart. The hours pass like sand in an hourglass; say that sand were molasses and the obligatory passage smaller than the eye of a needle. And it drip, drip, drips; like some brave actor - acting out in cowardice. My feeble ruminations are true, all be them less than explicit, for there are no words or phrases to conduct this symphony of misery in my heart of hearts forced to exist without your word and thought.
It is hard to create joy and to record memories without you here. The novelties of my fleeting and mostly lost youth are not nearly as entertaining without our shared commemoration. Our shared laughs. Our shared griefs. Ours shared tears.
The tea kettle howls at me from the other room. I am week from it’s hissing and howling, and only wish I had the ferocity to throw it across the room at the window. The window is open and the noises of the street sound mundane and are not unlike every other place I have been. Only, I know it is different here and I exist differently within my means.