Some days are easy. I wake up, brew my coffee, fry an egg, shower, throw something on, run to the station, hop on the train & head off to work. I get home in the evening. Watch a rerun of Friends. Order unhealthy takeout. Make excuses to not go to the gym. Fall asleep to the sound of the traffic from the busy street across my building.
But those are the easy days.
The hard ones look like they’re no different on the surface – I wake up, brew my coffee, fry an egg, shower, throw something on, hop on the train & head off to work. I get home in the evening. Watch a rerun of Friends. Order unhealthy takeout. Make excuses to not go to the gym. Fall asleep to the sound of the traffic from the busy street across my building.
When the alarm goes off – my body moves of it’s own accord towards the centre of the bed, towards you. The vacuum that greets my body, wakes me with a jolt.
When I brew my coffee, my hand reaches for the milk even though I love my coffee black. On the bad days, I start to make a second cup of coffee. With milk & honey – for you. I feel a little nauseous just thinking about eggs, by this point.
I step into the shower, my body aching for our early morning showers together and my heart aching for you even more.
xoxo (I...
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Haiku, if this isn’t fiction.. if this is all true.. then believe me, when I say, the raw pain will be replaced by an ugly scabby scar. And a scar is sexy and bad ass. It reminds you, you survived.