You are the smoke as it escapes me and dissapates, that i pull to escape from the thought of you. You are the words on this page more naked than flesh. You are the closed eyes peacefully at rest. You are a blade of grass carefully collecting dew. You are, in your subtlety, my idle thought of you. You are the driveway on the morning after snow storm. You are the sweater and scarf left at my house and their warmth. My broken speaker. My guitar teacher. My pain meds. My bare bed. You are you when you peruse the smooth expanses of my skin. You are part of me when i feel without within.

Stripping my bed. Laying on bare matress. Pillows without covers. Limbs tangled with each other's. I eye you in periphery. I think before I act. In my mind, I finger tip toe up your arm. In my mind, i push hair behind your ear, golden brown in the dim lit room. I know you'll leave me soon to climb out the window of the bay and start your day with a lecture. Twirl your pen. Doodle our names in the margins of your lined paper, next to the date. You in your thick rimmed glasses, i think of sex and death and memory. I eye you in periphery sitting two rows ahead of me. I write observations on the scene; you twirl your pen, write notes within the margin, look and try to find me where i always sit, next to the collumn. The matress feels rough on bare legs. Chest, rise and fall with breathing. I can feel your heart beating on my arm, trapped under you. In my mind, i synchronize my heart and breathing to your's. In my mind, we're lying on the floor, breathing hard-out of breath, your eyes in mine. Smiling. You only smile after sex.

My desire to have you cannot be subdued. I spend most of my time alone in silence: Necessarily true. You used to dream of me every night frozen in fear. Of what? You cannot say for it is too near to my heart and you removed your ear. I will tell you dear of what I've been frozen in fear  of for the past five years. At first it was losing you and it partially still is. I was afraid that you'd leave me and after you did i was afraid that you'd die or that id change and not love you as i once did. I'm scared I'll forget you as you were and that i don't know you as i once did. I'm worried I'll never see or speak to you again. But most of all i know in my heart that I'll never love another as i have loved you: Necessarily true. But thats not what I'm scared of its the fact that my future is no longer uncertain. I think we welcome death and the unknown but what scares me most is the inevitably lonely life that I'm already living.

Posts from wednesday 26 go from newest to oldest. All posts after 26th of march are correctly posted old to new. I hope you somehow found this darling.

I'm sitting on the couch that you drew on with the instant coffee that you brewed for me in the mug with your name in the heart. This is not a specific memory. Its more a feeling like those times that you let yourself in and crawled into my bed late at night. Its all the days we spent cuddlings after fights when we would both admit that we were wrong. And when you left it was like those bar fights came back. Reading the letter id been expelled. It was like your friends whispering behind my back. Or reading that text that you meant to send to your ex boyfriend.

In your bedroom late at night, it is dark, the only light spills in from the moon through the curtains covering your window, behind your bed. When i look strait at you my eyes blur out your face into a blank slate of darkness. To the left and right in contrast, the room is lit in pale twilight; a sharpness in shades of gray. So I'm using my peripherals to analyze your face as we whisper secret future plots involving unborn infant, Max. I'm always watching where you're looking without looking directly at you. I am focused on the space, now, between your shoulder and the bedpost, three inches above the hair resting upon your cheak or nose. I can see you're getting tired, not lifting your head to speak even when your excitement speeds your voice and rubs your feet. I can tell i have bad breathe by the way you blink your eyes and i can tell you could care less by the way you kiss me back. I can still see your face in the space where the chandeleer is and i can see you smiling in the corners of my bedroom. We still speak in hushed voices so our room mates wont listen to our super secret missions to teach Max the alphabet backwards.

For all your efforts of friendly small talk has left me sadly wanting for a full conversation about all your new admirations and your disgust in the world news with Al talking about the battle of the west bank. If i could pick your brain I'm sure id hear the same old save ol' palestine. You always shared those views of mine but this time you pass off the topic in sweet silence. You leave me to talk amongst my friends and you return to the table, to your boyfriend. And i excuse my awkwardness to those who had to witness this shaking sweating and the shameful way i avoid your eyes and all theirs too. I just miss the way you held my hand. Fingers crossed that that movie would never end. We'd walk down to the ocean or to the terminal with arms wide open hoping you would come back soon with frogs and drugs or a lack thereof. How could it matter? This world would be better off if you didnt get what you want all the time. You're always right and I'm not right for you. But I'll burn my bridges to get your attention. I'll skip my classes so you wonder if I'm sick or scared of moving on and maybe email me about being friends again. Lets get coffee. I know you daily drink like 5 cups lately. Theres this palestinian place around the corner. The owner writes a newspaper about his homeland. You're welcome to take one home and use it on your pet chinchilla when you're done reading about his family's fares. You're response caught me unawares you said absolutely nothing and then closed the conversation. I had more to say like sorry sorry hi how are you god i love you and your smile. I havent seen it in a while now you're so distant. You're so used to smoking my cigarettes that you ask for them from my friends. Go find your own friends and get a life in the city so i can spend my time worrying about when youll return or call me crying or just drunk dialing to get back at your boyfriend for ignoring you when you were talking about palestine.