Letter to my Lover

Time is going so slowly. Every minute drags by. Each time I look at the clock it seems like hours must have passed; in reality it is only ten minutes - 20 if I am lucky.

Time is merciless - we have the same amount every day but when we want more we can't get it. When we want less it seems to last longer. Waiting, waiting, heart beating in time with the second hand. Every second, a second closer to you, but a second less we have together. We have already wasted 25 years worth of seconds.

Everytime my phone buzzes my heart stops then pounds with anticipation. Only to find it's not you.

The great big aching void in my chest is getting bigger but I don't care. I feel encased in a vacuum; I see people around me, hear them talking, but I don't feel like a participant, just an invisible observer.

You are everywhere and nowhere. You still hold my hand with an unseen touch. You kiss my lips with invisible tenderness. The wind has become your breath and my memories of my yesterdays with you have become my reality of today. I get through the day by pretending you will be at home with me at the end of it. I get through the night by cradling you in my dreams. Rain hides my tears and music drowns the sound of my pain. The things that once brought me pleasure are just intrusions into my thoughts of you.

My alarm goes off at 6am everyday, a daily reminder coincidentally of the exact time you left on the plane that day. 24 hours, 48 hours, 72 hours since I last saw you, the first thing I think of when I wake up. When will it become too much to count?

I look at the time again; another 10 minutes has passed. It's not ten to one here, it's ten to nine where you are. Your day is just beginning; mine is halfway through. Five to one, five to nine. Are you eating breakfast now? What are your plans for the day? I see the forecast is rain where you are. Does that mean you will be inside? Having to talk to her? Wanting to?

Five past one, five past nine. I am drinking a diet coke for lunch - are you having a cup of tea with your breakfast? Oh god, quarter past one, quarter past nine - have you finished your drink my love, can I get you anything else?

I ache to hold you, touch you, see you. Not having you here is like having a nightmare I can't wake up from. Silent screams punctuate all my conversations; I live in my head with you.

Did you know that you are 5257 kilometres away from me? That's like 5,257,000 metres and 525,700,000 centimetres. I would do anything to get to you, to be with you.

Sometimes I smile at something, and it takes a second to realise why it feels strange. Because it is. Because since you've been gone I haven't felt the urge to lift the corners of my mouth and smile, pretending that everything is OK. Because it's not. Not at all. Things are far from OK. I test the smile again. It just doesn't seem to fit anymore, like I'm not a smiley person. How come I could smile before you but now I can't smile without you?

Half past two, half past ten. My phone buzzes - not just an e-mail, but a phone call, from an unknown number. But it's not you. Of course it's not you. My semi-smile fades when I hear the voice at the end of the phone. I hate waiting, anticipating. I hate you not being here. You said not to hold your breath. So why do I/