Longing

I am drowning and choking and gasping for breath but it is not the water that I am drowning in. There are no swallowed fish in these lungs and I cannot taste the sea.
Drowning, not in water but in the sheer volume of tears that have gone unwiped by fingers taking leave of my hand they were holding.
Choking, not on a lack of air and not on the flavor of breath that I have forgotten
but on the lack of you and the number of moments left unshared between us.
On the life that flows beyond us endlessly while we sit on the shore and wait to be ready to dip our toes in, ready to jump with our clothes on.
I’m choking right along with the words in my throat.
I’m falling back in love with the letter you wrote and I think that I was wrong, but I guess I don’t know.
I figure that I’ll wait until you tell me so.