A year ago I lost my phone and all my pictures of you. I was devastated. But it was good.
I saw you a few times since then. The first time, to discuss ourselves as two separate people. I was granted the finality that you had saved just for yourself. A few other times, briefly in passing. No words exchanged.
At some point this past year, I lost your image. I remember what you looked like, but I had forgotten what I saw. At some point I stopped craving you. I stopped fantasizing about you. I stopped knowing you. And then tonight, I see your pictures again.
You and all your manhood. Everywhere I look. Why are objectifying yourself like this?
It doesn’t matter. You are beautiful anyways.
It’s a wonder I ever thought I was comfortable with you. I worship you. You are perfect and exquisite. I am not worthy. I was not worthy. I objectify you.
But then I love you. I feel guilty that other’s look at you as I have. I feel sad that you crave their sight. I wonder if your inadequacies were my doing.
I am sorry.
It has been a long year of solace, and I have come full circle. I have found myself stuck in the shadows of your existence once again. No doubt, forever you will be the emptiness in my heart. But once again, the emptiness in my bed, in my breath, and in my being.