I wish I could hold Her, stroking Her hair, wiping Her tears with my lips.
I wish I could stand before Her while She yells at me everything that is on Her heart, so She doesn’t have to hold it all inside.
I wish my desire to protect Her from me was strongest on the days I miss Her most.
Then maybe I would reconsider contacting Her again, and wouldn’t have to run away.
I wish I knew what She was thinking today, since I have felt utterly cut off from being able to sense Her.
I guess that is what anger does. Or guilt. Or both.
Can you tell that I am writing this more for Her today?
Hoping She is reading it and picking up on the apologetic nature of these words.