Every day

I have thought of you every single day that you have been absent from my life. Every single day. Sometimes not for long, often not with kindness or tenderness, but I have thought of you. Is that love? Is that enduring love? Or is it just like a flesh wound that heals into a scar? There is evidence of it, it is indelible, but it is gone, the pain is gone.

Sometimes there has been pain, real pain that I can’t get rid of for hours, day and I am left with you in my head all night. Sometimes it is that dream, the old dream, that you are out of reach, just out of grasp, and I have to get to you. Sometimes you just appear at work or in my house and I have to ask you to leave. In waking life when I try and recall you, always your face is fuzzy, your features blurred and I can’t completely recall your voice, but in my dreams you are as real and solid as you were that first night, unchanged, young again.