(no subject)
I spit at the word "soon." It mocks my pain.
I’ll see you soon. I’ll talk to you soon. We’ll be together soon.
In all reality, this time apart is not as vast as those endured by others, but when time moves so slow that you wonder if time itself has turned his back on you or if he is enjoying your suffering, "soon" becomes as far as forever.
Your pictures also taunt me. Always the cold shoulder. I see you, but there is never an embrace. Never will I feel your warmth, not until "soon" is finally here. Your smile..! Oh, your smile! How perfect, how wonderful! Yet, your photographed smile commands my tears to come out again, and my tears never disobey.
Your voice is evil. I can speak as if you’re sitting beside me. I can laugh with you, even cry for you, while you talk to me, but my only comfort is the warm plastic of my telephone.
Oh this heart! Damn these curses of love! There is no sanctuary. There is no shield from their venom of mockery....
Except for your memory. It is the most powerful piece of yourself that you left for me. With it, I can see your face, hear your voice, and feel your warmth in my mind. I fear it might fade. Don’t fail me. Hopefully you can add to my memory, not soon, but better than soon.
I love you. Weep not for the memories.