Oct. 1, 2014
I stumbled upon a piece of paper on your bedside table last night, an unexpected letter addressed, Dear Kristina.
The words that followed made the cocoons inside of me split open; butterflies throwing themselves against the lining of my stomach. A smile as wide as the pacific ocean stretches across my face.
I am melting into your bed, falling asleep intoxicated with the fact that you are missing me from wherever you are. I awoke this morning with out you. When I stay, I am used to rolling over to trace your tattooed skin, your mouth, your anything with my fingertips but instead I must settle with your scent that is still tangled in these sheets.
I get up to greet the morning sun. I walk to the balcony, offering myself to him.
My skin is kissed by his rays but it isn’t the same as the sunshine you radiate.
Wish you were here.