Reschedule’s Weblog

I still smell you on my skin.

You left hours ago, we hugged good bye, standing in the snow I looked into your sometimes blue sometimes green eyes and I smiled. It was cold, we held on not knowing when we would be able to touch again, and you told me you loved me. I told you I loved you. And then we each got in our individual cars, started them up, smiled behind the windscreens, we might have waved once, maybe twice, and then you drove one way and I drove the other. I would have watched you in the rear view mirror but I was having trouble getting up the hill, the snow making it difficult to steer or get traction, and when I glanced back you were gone. Our separation complete. Vacation over.

We had spent the morning tangled in sheets and limbs, you laughed when I told you about this or that and I wanted to commit that sound to memory, I wanted to play it all back later, when I was alone. And then I realized that you were still all over me, the scent of your skin is on my forearm, my shoulder, my tummy. I have been home for hours, needing to shower but Im resisting, how can I wash you away?

I am hating all the plans I have made. I want to curl up around you and fall asleep, but instead I need to get my ass in gear and get back to the life I was living before you, without you, indifferent of the wish and wash of you and I. I have friends to see and smiles to paint on my face, lies to spill around me and laughter to sop it all up with. I have a life without you again and I hate it.

Leaving your house today I worried that somehow we would never be back there, like it was a final chapter or a slight righting of certain wrongs, and I was scared at how easily I have come to let you go. I hate that sometimes I feel like you suck me in just to spit me back out. But then, I tend to do that too. Just not to you. Not yet at least.