Status: Happy New Year
New Year
New Year
Like the fireworks that light up the January night sky, a smile lights up the beautiful face of the man that I call my own. On this special day, I am away from my love, but he remains in my thoughts, hiding overtly in my conscious thoughts and unconscious alike as he haunts my dreams with his sweet touches and warm smiles.
I plug my ears at the joyous cheers and the assured car crashes of those driving drunk and the equally startling fireworks that bring so much happiness to those open to receive the merriment and excitement. It's all too much for me; the pain inside me that yearns for my beloved is of a greater magnitude than I can handle. Truly I understand that his work tears him away from my loving embrace and I try so hard to be understanding, but I only wish that he would be able to join me as we plummet cheerfully into a new year, a new experience, a new slate.
There are only ten minutes left until the dreaded moment. Perhaps if I really try, I can fall asleep before the clock chimes midnight and ease the pain of being alone on New Years. Yes, maybe. And then next year, I will just make sure that he is with me. It doesn't truly matter anyway, it means nothing less of mere bad timing.
Nine minutes remain as I receive a text from him, proclaiming that we must Skype until midnight so that we can fool ourselves into thinking that we're together for the mock holiday. Naturally, I agree.
At eight minutes, we are properly connected and chatting aimlessly, only to hear each other talk. I cannot see much other than his peaceful face. Not that it matters; the fact that I can actually see his face in this time of loneliness is more than enough to lift my spirits.
Five minutes remain when he demands that I close my eyes and only open them when he tells me to. I agree, albeit hesitantly. What's up his sleeve?
At three minutes, I hear his signal to open my eyes, although a bit different. I furrow my eyebrows in slight confusion before I look at the screen. Disconnected?
Two minutes is when I realize that my beloved is now seated directly next to me, grinning at me in that way that only he can—with such radiance and beauty that my heart pounds every time. The hint of amusement only makes him more beautiful.
One minute is when the people start to count down. My lover wiggles his eyes at me suggestively, drawing embarrassing giggles from my throat. I can't even find it in me to care.
I hear my neighbors count down from the thin walls of my apartment.
5—4—3—2—1 And I am joined with the one that I love most as we plummet cheerfully into the new year, a new experience and a new chance.
I plug my ears at the joyous cheers and the assured car crashes of those driving drunk and the equally startling fireworks that bring so much happiness to those open to receive the merriment and excitement. It's all too much for me; the pain inside me that yearns for my beloved is of a greater magnitude than I can handle. Truly I understand that his work tears him away from my loving embrace and I try so hard to be understanding, but I only wish that he would be able to join me as we plummet cheerfully into a new year, a new experience, a new slate.
There are only ten minutes left until the dreaded moment. Perhaps if I really try, I can fall asleep before the clock chimes midnight and ease the pain of being alone on New Years. Yes, maybe. And then next year, I will just make sure that he is with me. It doesn't truly matter anyway, it means nothing less of mere bad timing.
Nine minutes remain as I receive a text from him, proclaiming that we must Skype until midnight so that we can fool ourselves into thinking that we're together for the mock holiday. Naturally, I agree.
At eight minutes, we are properly connected and chatting aimlessly, only to hear each other talk. I cannot see much other than his peaceful face. Not that it matters; the fact that I can actually see his face in this time of loneliness is more than enough to lift my spirits.
Five minutes remain when he demands that I close my eyes and only open them when he tells me to. I agree, albeit hesitantly. What's up his sleeve?
At three minutes, I hear his signal to open my eyes, although a bit different. I furrow my eyebrows in slight confusion before I look at the screen. Disconnected?
Two minutes is when I realize that my beloved is now seated directly next to me, grinning at me in that way that only he can—with such radiance and beauty that my heart pounds every time. The hint of amusement only makes him more beautiful.
One minute is when the people start to count down. My lover wiggles his eyes at me suggestively, drawing embarrassing giggles from my throat. I can't even find it in me to care.
I hear my neighbors count down from the thin walls of my apartment.
5—4—3—2—1 And I am joined with the one that I love most as we plummet cheerfully into the new year, a new experience and a new chance.
♠ ♠ ♠
Whoo