Greece has you now.
With it's fish and lemons and sauce and baklava and pretty brunettes.
I woke up this morning, and had to wonder for a moment where you had gone.

Nine days. Nine, eight, seven, oh, why am I even bothering to countdown from now. I want you here, now. I almost cried last night when you turned to go, when we kissed goodbye and I told you I loved you. I cried when I got home. Not even shisha clouds and arabian nights can take the dull aching away.
Yesterday we wandered, far away and close by, and you danced and made strange poses and attracted unwanted attention, and I stood there and stared and laughed in embarrassment, wondering what I had gotten myself into. You told me I made you high. That didn't change the fact that people stared and whispered, and I had to wait till you were done before we could carry on. Then you held me and apologised, and said you would try to change. When we spoke the night before, you told me not to ask you to make promises you could not keep. I do not know, I do not know. I miss you now.

I remember that night in Krabi, though vaguely. It wasn't even really Krabi, just some island nearby with creepy haunted hotel rooms that gave us feelings. And I remember being on that bridge with you, looking at the stars, when previously in the room I made it so clear that I liked you when I lay on you and curled up and closed my eyes. I remember leaning on you, leaning in close and kissing your cheek, and you thanking me, which made me feel awkward. I don't know what happened from there. You didn't say you liked me. I didn't say I liked you. But there we were, holding each other close and closer, and you said my mother would kill me. I remember breathing. And telling you to take the lead. You asked if I should kiss me good night, since it was late. I asked you where you would kiss me. You asked me where I wanted to be kissed. I asked you to take the lead. You kissed me. Again. And again. Five times. I do not want to forget this.

Everyone found out the next next day, and oh, how they teased. Already it was so obvious when you put your arm around me and held me close as I fell asleep on you in the bus. It was nice, though.

And I remember in real Krabi, the hammock and the mosquito bites, and the way the dawn broke through the trees and the leaves until it looked like the place was flooded with overenthusiastic moonlight. I wanted it to last forever. I had 87 mosquito bites. I counted. I miss the hammock. I miss you.

You were fine with it, with everything. With my past, with my present. I thought you'd panic. End it. But you're fine, and that night, you told me you loved me.

You're shorter than me, just a bit. You have scruffy poofy hair which will be gone when you come back, or have to go. You have absolutely nothing to wear. You have the loveliest brown eyes in the world. You have the wondrous ability to make me smile and laugh and feel better about the world. You have me now.

Come back safe. Come back sound. Call me in the dusty morning and shake the sand from the corners of my eyes. Nine days. I'll be waiting.

. . . . . .
I miss you. 5 days more.
. . . . . .
You sent me a text message from greece at 11.23 pm. I am making this up. I can't remember the time. I remember picking up my phone thinking it was just another text from one of my friends, yet hoping deep down that it would be you, and opening it up and feeling the tears burning in my eyes and my heart thobbing faster as I saw your name. And I read the message, and felt as though you had been gone forever, and felt the wetness on my cheeks, and embarrassment that I had cried over such a simple thing like this. I would love to have done all those things with you. Watching sunsets and looking over the sea, and trying out strange food. I would love to be with you. Right here, right now. Because I miss you, and three days seems too long.

Three. Days.
One, two, forever.
That's what it feels like.
But i'll wait, I'm waiting now.
(burning for you, burning like a candle)