I do miss her, I terribly miss her. If by some boon she were here, with me, I'd be ashamed of myself. If she saw me in the mess that I am in she would miss the strength that she once saw in me. My weakness, my yearnings cry through my silence into every corners of today. She had questioned my solitaryhood and mocked my versions of future which I had described in detail to her. I had scared her when I proved to her my willingness to pursue them and she had not wasted a breath prior to declare me mad. When others call me "weird" or even "mad" it isn't of any concern but it was significant when she did. She knew me through and through and her judgements were educated conclusions. It was always about "why?" the same whys to which I had no answers for. I wasn't asking those whys. Without asking, I had already traveled down their valley and it was almost as if too late to ask then. Now I know, however, it isn't ever too late. I wish I had her hand near me so that I could reach for its warmth. That her smile be here, near my reflection in the mirror. She had enough freedom in her to hold me if she'd felt like doing so, but she wouldn't have. She liked her distance and was comfortable in her personal space, she needed no support. Neither did I which is what made us belong properly.

In these moments I miss her; in about 15 minutes I most probably won't. Maybe in an hour, as I prepare to sit outside to watch the sunset I might miss her again.

Maybe a touch would've never been granted to me and I would've been fine with that. We would've grown old without feeling the erotic and it would've made no difference to either one of us. It was only her whom I wanted within my silence. All I ever wanted was that. Only her. It has been almost a year now since I last spoke to her. It was such a futile conversation. This was the first year since knowing her that I forgot her birthday. It is what made me realize that I was indeed drifting, that We were indeed drifting away. I could very well call her and wish her happy birthday but that would make me transparent in front of her. Transparency never allows for silence, and talking is a nuisance. Never before had I placed importance on birthdays for I always felt as though they were meaningless. She has always, since she has known me, wished me on mine and I will see if she too realizes how far we've drifted when that day arrives. It is weak and unfair but all of it will be consumed by silence in due time.