My calendar has X’s on every day you’ve been gone. It’s been months and still each day begins with thoughts of you. I catch myself wondering if you’re thinking of me at the same time. How could I love you so dearly but hurt you so much? I’m a fool. S.W.
I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone.
I take walks. I work until I’m tired.
I watch the wind play with the trash
that’s been under the snow all winter.
Everything seems simple until you think about it.
Why is love intensified by absence?