Missing Him

This last week has been particularly tough. I suppose that I got used to having him around during my two weeks at home. I liked talking to him when I wanted to. I liked being able to meet him on an hour's notice. I liked waking up next too him the odd time, with his arm heavy over my midriff, breathing into my neck and pulling me closer in his sleep. I liked meeting his friends, seeing his new house, holding his hand and laughing at his stupid jokes.

Now again it's two different countries, the odd phone call, multiple text messages and emails. Visits are planned weeks in advance, the journey takes 7 hours in total and spontenaity is difficult to come by. I can't touch him when I want, much less kiss him. I can't kiss him all the time. I don't ever wake up with his arm around me - the bed seems big and empty. My human hot water bottle is missing.

I am an independent grown woman. I shouldn't depend on someone else for my happiness and to a large degree I don't. Nobody realises how much I miss him as I keep a stoic face. I live my life, do my exercise, go to work and go out with my friends and I definitely still have fun. The heavy feeling around my heart tells me that some part of me is missing. And it's him.