Longing
#1 of To Love a Crow
A teacher of mine recently told me that a good writer should be able to take the most powerful moments in their lives, regardless of the emotion and allow them to flow from the pen, or in my case, my fingertips. In this way we come to better see our muse and to better understand the life we give to our art.
I lay awake and breathe in, tears rolling down my cheeks as I bury my muzzle in it. To most it's only a coat, only cloth and stitching designed for warmth, but all I can think of now, as I lay clutching it to my chest, breathing the last fading remnants of the still lingering scent, all I can think of is you.
Every breath brings a fond memory, of snuggling among the boxes, of meals shared in, of cloudy rooms so full of warmth despite the cold beyond the blankets. And yet, every breath brings new tears because I know the scent is fading. I know how strong I'll have to be, braving the distance between us.
I long for the next moment when I can breathe you in again and dread the moment when I'll have to watch you go again; for it always comes far too soon. I long to feel your arms around me, for even a single moment next to you is an eternity. I long for the day when I no longer have to be so brave, knowing you're here to stay.
For now however, I lay awake and breathe in the last of you, thanking the gods above it has lasted this long and when it fades, I'll find my strength again, no more tears, erect the walls and perk my vulpine ears to listen, for the telltale winds which will once again bring my darling crow to me again.