There is something akin to grief when we part. My heart aches, my chest becomes tight and my breathing less easy. I miss you from the moment of departure until you are once again within sight and sound. It has been two months since we first knew each other, and a few short weeks since we met. I sat on that bench, terrified and scared, the lunacy of the moment outweighing the excitement and the anticipation.
And there you were, smiling, lovely, and it was fine. We walked, and we talked, wandered and wondered, and as the evening drew on we became closer, more excited, we touched and came together with that momentary awareness of each other.
Each moment with you since has been a wonder, full of joy and happiness. There have been times of distress, when my jealousy and my need for you overshadow my sense. I know I hurt at these times. I know I do, and yet your consideration and strength and patience shine through every time.
You humble me.
Not being with you hurts. It is akin to grief, but I would not have it any other way, for the anticipation and reality of you is without compare.