drunken butterfly

I miss him
I love him.
These two thoughts are constant in my mind, part reassuring, part worrying, always hovering near the surface.
Sometimes, it scares me.
How strongly I feel about another person.
I've been in love before.
At least, at the time, I thought myself in love.
But perhaps, loving him as I do now, perhaps I wasn't as in love as I thought, but only in love with the idea of being in love.
I know I want him near me, beside me.
Not far away, on the other side of the ocean, but close, in the next room or down the road or in my bed.
In my heart.
I want to share what I have with him.
To be there when he's tired, angry, hungry.
To laugh, fight, love and cry.
The phone helps, he's not so far away when he's on the other end.
But still not close enough to reach out and touch, although if I close my eyes, I can feel his arms around me.