Stormy Weather

Dear John,

At first I missed you with all the tiny fibers inside me. I missed you at night. I missed you in the slow afternoon. I missed you when I ate meat or yogurt or when I cried. I missed you when you were on the phone with me. I took sexy pictures of myself and sent them to you and wrote long letters, which is something I'd never considered doing with a lover. It felt very heavy to miss you so much. My bones felt massive and my face felt hot like an explosion. So, now I miss you less. I miss you when I'm able and it works out much better for us both. I could feel you inching away, even across states, in response to my new nature. It was like a vine curling in the opposite direction. It hurt very little; it was just a drop in the bucket and I began to appreciate these natural responses. I wish I could watch everything unfold uncontrolled from a bay window with a blue blanket on my lap.