IG: DivyaAdu

I miss your scent. I miss how you need your back rubbed to get to sleep. I miss how you’d wake when I got out of bed to make sure I wasn’t leaving. I miss your forehead kisses. I miss the way you’d make my plate for me. I miss you getting upset at me for not washing my car because I’m too lazy. I miss you using me as your muse. I miss watching documentaries with you. I miss laughing with you. I miss being angry with you for not speaking — I know now that your silence is better than your absence. I miss holding your hand as we sleep. I miss your smile and your dimples. I wish I could hide in them — somehow still be apart of you. I miss the way you made love to me. I miss talking to you in those moments and we conquered big feelings together. I miss your lips and your eyes and your moles and your arms and your legs and your chest and your feet. Your feet on mine. I miss your voice. I miss how you walk. How you sit. I miss how loud you are in the morning. I miss getting wasted with. I miss you wanted me around. I miss you waiting by the door for me to come home. I miss the dog. I miss your family. I miss you. Everything is hard without you. I’m in that stage of grief where I compare everyone to you. I need you.

People usually don’t realize how much they actually love me until it’s too late and I’m not sure why this is the pattern in my life.

When I think about love I always envision the person I love and I alone. No one else in the world matters. No disturbances. No outside noise — just us.

I was listening to “simply beautiful” by Al Green and it made me realize that how love feels to me. I imagine waking up to the feeling of being a little overheated. Muggy, but not too hot. There’s sweat on my nose and I can feel my body slowly moving. I am laying alone and I can hear the weather outside — the window is open just enough to give me a taste of the rain, the day light is gloomy, and the smell of great food is giving me the energy to get up. As I rise I stretch my body.

I follow the melody of Al Green’s ballad down the stairs where it’s playing on a speaker. The sound of the rain is accompanied by the cooking of food on the stove. My lover greats me with a soft kiss on my forehead and a light hug. I inhale them, I embrace them, I am at peace.

I think that’s what love is like for me. Remember all the details. Remember every touch, every scent, every word, every sound. I also imagine love as being silent in words. Silent verbally but loud and boastful in the physical and spiritual. Saying “I love you” through service. Through eyes. Through our minds. Through our bodies. Saying “I love you” in the form of care rather than words. And if we should speak I’d like them to be whispers. Gentle and quiet.

Something like that…