I have a love, a dear one far away.  An invisible bond ties my heart to his, somehow.  Somehow we are part of each other, though doing very different things, though in very different places.  I am incomplete apart from him. Yet I have him even when he's gone.  He's with me, in my heart.  I guess I left part of me with him, and kept part of him with me.  That way we are one together, and together apart, and incomplete without each other.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but only if that heart has once known presence.  I think of the presence of my beloved, and long for it.  Everyday greetings are made special.  Goodbyes are much more meaningful.  A last look in those noble eyes, both confident and vulnerable, knowing and asking, happy and sad, then he goes.  His expression remains.  His beautiful face stays steady before my eyes, though behind my eyes, in the swirling mists of my heart.  My hands tingle for the feel of the solid him.  My eyes look through his reflection, waiting for the true him to cut through his surroundings, to be here.

My eyes are heavy with waiting.  My arms strain for the stress to release at that first hug.  I will fold into him, warm and happy, one with myself and my love.  Then the dance of reunion will begin, with talk and laughs and play and hugs.  Everything will be known, everything made known.  Until our next departure, we will be as normal again.  And then the time will loom, will draw closer, and dare to come.  I will hurry to that last kiss, a sign of loyalty, of love, of attraction, of enduring patience until he comes again.