tomorrow i will leave the City for the last time, or at least it will feel that way, since i will be away a long time before i get to see you again. it will be the longest time since we met that i will be without the whet of a word, the velvety hold of your voice, and the plush fold of your lips.
i will miss this, these and every thought of you that has long given me pleasure. for you should know by now that i treasure you and our understanding—our intimacy, our affection, and our predilection toward one another and every other moment we share—walking, talking side-by-side, hiding where we can confide all the secrets that lovers do, that two inamoratos imagine—then wantonly pursue.
for three long weeks i fear i will discover what it really means to be without you—you my muse, my friend, confidant and paramour extraordinaire. there are bound to be trying times ahead, and much sighing to be had, but i will pull through knowing we met for a reason. and albeit this is the warming season when family is to be drawn near, i will be ringing in the new year a bit cold—knowing it will be without you.
the list
l.m