the first day
Seeing her again, literally in the flesh, (re)conjures words I cannot speak, pleasures I cannot experience, and thoughts I cannot think. Honestly, I no longer believe them to be morally reprehensible, sinful, or the like. They're simply/complexly persistent and demanding, often calling my attention away from happiness to dwell once again in misery past--not that they, themselves, are miserable (their denial more so).
Life, much to our/my dismay, is not about suffering, and since I truly love her/myself, I'll prove it by refusing to suffer.
She deserves it. But, even more, so do I.
the fifth day
How's that working out for you?