Does she feel it too?

Is it why we act the way we do around each other? Does what we see as mild distance from each other come across as chemisrty to others? Are they helping us? What do her friends think? Is she even talking about it?

Does she understand? Is she dealing with her feelings rationally, or is she hurting herself? I want to teach her, I want to see her understand, I want to build her. Does she want to be built? Does she know she needs to be built? Does she care?

Will she sleep tonight? Or will she think of me?

I've always liked the power of minimalistic words.

A slow dance.

Explosions in the sky.

A warm night.

Figures.

Couples.

Our faces buried.

Her hair.

Her touch.

Her warmth.

Our bodies in motion.

A slow dance.

It isn't happening, and it never did. Dreams I've had that were so real I can wake up happy. Wake up happy and revel in the soft mists before fully waking. I want it more than words can wield the matter, I wake up and it's all I can do not to cry out in grief at the loss of those moments of sleep. Those moments of happiness, understanding, clarity. When we would sit opposite and talk through it all. Why this, why that. I feel it too.

Does she feel it too?

Did we talk through it all?

It's all I can do. . .