She was the color of fire, while I was the color of calm. Red and blue, we called our selves. Whilst red called for intensity and inspiration, my color called for strength and mobility, but with a call for an on-hand composition when needed. She had the same color on her abdomen in the mark of a wild animal—an obvious representation; while mine is on my back arm, a persistent reminder to move.

And yet, we were entirely different as dictated by the zodiacs. She was water and I was fire; she sets calm on everyone while I agitate my own self. I ignite into mis-composition, lost in my own delay of abstraction. Her world has numbers, mine has glorified intangibilities. She has calculator, I had my words and imagery. She has a fixed idea of future, I don’t even know how to get to today’s noon.

Quantifiable vs qualitative. Math vs words. Equation vs impression.

- o-

I force myself to wake up to the phone alarm; a rather intrusive requirement that morning. I see her still in deep slumber; passed out from the lack of sleep she has been getting the past weeks due to work. I groan to the unavoidability of this.

I snuggle close, wanting to capture the remaining embers of her warmth. This will have to last me weeks without her. Stretching memories is the only option.

I get up and put on a shirt and grab my duffle. I turn on one of the lights. I linger on her bed for a few more minutes, staring at her back. I touch it slowly, worried to wake her up. I trace the blades of her back, trying to memorize the shades and textures. I place a soft kiss on her lower back, hoping I wouldn’t have to leave. And that she wouldn’t, either.

I will miss this. I will miss her.

You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be / and I don’t want to go home right now.

All I can taste is this moment / And all I can breathe is your life / ‘Cause sooner or later it’s over / I just don’t want to miss you tonight.

I go out while the sun has barely given its first set of sunshine kisses. Headphones blaring to drown the drowse. Cold is starting to get much more harsh than usual. We are all strangers in the morning, but it’s lonelier when you know you’re veering away from a different kind of heat.

- o-

I fell in love with her the moment I was able to rest my cheeks on her chest. I’m sure there were other instances which I fell in love with her, but it’s something I just can’t help going back to.

It is on such moments when you find absolute bliss in something so seemingly simple—like resting your head on that very soft space in the middle of her chest, just above her rib cage. It’s a lullabye waiting to happen whenever she breathes.

I crept up to her chest so many times this week. I’ve been feeling so lonely just thinking about the next weeks. It’s always going to be the most lonesome feeling—being left alone, even if for the mean time.