in my dreams, you are there.
always.

in my life, i do not see you. you are not there.
anymore.

i spend my days alone, or with friends, or with a bottle of champagne, and i think.

sometimes i write things. the clacking of the keys is cathartic.
   sometimes i just watch the waves lap against the shore.

and when the sky turns grey and dark, and little raindrops pelt the sand and patter on my windows, i think of you, and the kisses we shared under similar skies. i think of the way your rainwater wet skin felt against mine, how our lips pressed roughly together into kisses punctuated with giggles. your long, dark hair clung to your face and framed your smile.

i told you that you were beautiful, and you laughed, but you knew i wouldn't lie.

sometimes i wonder where you are now. and if you are happy, and if, perhaps, it is more enjoyable than life here, in this place, was. and like in the books and movies, when i sit out on the sand and look at the moon, i wonder if you, too, are looking at it - somehow, somewhere. i'm sure you'd find a way; you always loved the moonlight, didn't you?

it's true that i miss you. do you, too, long for me? do you wait for me?

you know the answers, now, to all the things we used to talk about on those late nights.

i long for the days and nights and moments when i had things to live for, when we spoke of sharing our lives together.

it's sad how much things change, and i think you would agree.

the air is cool tonight, the sea breeze strong. the palms are swaying and as i sit with the sliding glass door open - yes, the same one we broke six summers ago - the sound of the ocean soothes me. i sip my champagne now, and i eat strawberries, and remark aloud that your lips always did taste like them, i swear to god.

i think, tomorrow, i shall visit you, and i shall bring you flowers.

red tulips - your favorite.