minus you.

The weather people predicted that this would be a hot season. Hot and dry.
Obviously, they were wrong.
It rains about three different times each day.


My mind said I would forget.
And I did. Most of the time anyway.
But my mind forgot to mention that I would remember. Like the weather people whose inept predictions have caused us to be caught unaware at 3 am at a bar with really not enough inside sitting room, my mind is failing itself. Betraying its former stance. Because I remember.
Everything. All of it, at the most inconvenient times.
At the end of a long, bothersome and uncreative day. This day could do with a warm, alone-with-the-one-I-am-with close.
This day should not end with me in my bed, with a good book but with aches. Dull aches.
Not the ones that sting and pinch. But the ones that weigh down all the life in me.
This day should end with you making me laugh, and reminding me that I am brilliant and talented and mentally-not-so-stable but gifted. You should be making me un-doubt my lack of creativity as a sign that I am in any way, less than amazing. You should be telling me that I'll be just fine. 


You should be here. To be my friend, my mentor and my personal comedian.


You should be pouring my gin and tonic, to make just the perfect blend.
Then stare at me until I get so uncomfortable, I beg you to stop.To which you'd cornily reply that I was cute and pretty and hot...and literally begged to be stared at.
Then I'd blush. And smile. And know that tomorrow would be better. Not because it would go perfectly, but because you would be there. At the end of it all, you would be there.


And give me the perfect close to the most imperfect day.
You should be here.