sleep doesnt come

this room will be the death of me.

i was always so grateful to move before. every couple months was like flushing away the old, the bad, the sleepless nights (you can only count the panels in the ceiling, the cracks in the molding, the ribs under your flesh so many times) of some apartment, some home i couldnt live in anymore because of the memories it held of you. and now this place, this place i couldnt wait to show you ( i dreamed of sleeping beside you in this bed, of looking at the castle view from my window seat of showing you my writing desk, dont you understand?) this place has turned dangerous for me. at night i count car alarms and bottles breaking and i try to will you back.

now nothing exists. plans i had made, a life i had ahead of me, my dreams, because that is what they were, my dreams, are gone.

this does not swallow easily. i like to get what i want. what i am promised, i like to be given.

im spinning out of control up here, down here, in here.

(in my head, this country, this room)

and even here you are in everything. so intertwined with my life. little parts of ourselves had begun to cling together, had begun to flourish. i thought we had finally found our spring.

nothing is safe. not music. not food. not words. and especially not night. long, quiet night, i cant close my eyes because there you are. there is the life we arent living. there is everything we made.

we are driving in the rain from bodega after eating oysters out the back of your truck, jumping off a dock in cape cod at someones private beach, you drying off and getting dressed after a shower, over candle light last new years when we had the perfect meal, we toasted 2010, waking up and taking vito on walks, the smell of your skin, the night you said i love you and could barely get it out, its summer and bike rides and buenos aires and love notes and making you a tea was one of my favorite things to do, looking at you from across the room at a party and catching your eye, it was like we had a secret, it was the safest place to be. and then there is everything we havent done yet. its just floating around in my head. still there, still desired, mocking me, some cruel horrible joke. some secret garden and i cant get in.

it is life. it is LIFE. i cant believe you gave this up. everything else will continue, but you gave up love.

i take more pills. i pace my room. i go to the bathroom and stare. i try to write. i try to watch something. i try to go numb and then my body starts aching. i am literally in pain from being without you. my limbs arent my limbs. my skin hurts. my eyes burn. the missing of someone you love is difficult but the missing of someone you love who doesnt belong to you anymore is unbearable. no, no, thats too nice of a word.

it is hell.