I think about him so much, not too much. I think about him a lot. He sometimes sends me text messages of the song we used to play, the song with my name in it. And always ends the text with our symbol. Though, to be truthful, is it still our symbol? It was ours when we were "we" but now we're just him and me.

When is the time limit? I thought it'd be when I let someone else touch my sacred spots. I thought it'd be then that he would release this hold he has on me. Or that my body and mind would release him. But, here I am, a year later. Here I am, thinking about how last year on this night we made love like the world wouldn't exist "tomorrow." We sunk so deep into one another that we couldn't tell who was who. We're all the same when the lights go out. The lights were out.

I walk down the street and I still follow the smell of his cologne. I can't help it. I never tell though. I never tell him. He sends me longing text messages, random phone calls, and I never say "I miss you too." Because the truth is, he misses my body, my attention, my love, but he doesn't miss me--he only misses the way I make him feel about himself. And I need someone to miss me.

I miss him. The things I miss the most about him are the things I could never capture. So, I'd spend a lifetime chasing and he'd spend a lifetime running but still within reach and I need to stop running in the wrong direction because my heart aches.

So, now I have a love who chases me. And misses me. And searches me and explores me and adores me, just enough to get me to stay but not to much that I run away. And the high is not the same, but the good days far outweigh the bad. That's a good thing, right?

That's a good thing, right?