you distracted me in the nicest of ways.  i woke up the other morning thinking of that evening.  it was the eve of winter and we had been buried in comforters and crosswords and days spent in each others world.  but then, as suddenly as we had been in our universe, i was so quickly back to the other reality, it’s now one of those rare bright days in late january and i’m sitting here, and wearing that sweater you liked me in.  it’s chocolate and soft and has some holes … but with those jeans you said it was the only time you liked watching me walk away.  always makes me smile thinking of your voice and the way you would grab my hand as i walked by.  i write you this letter and pull a second apple from my knapsack.  this morning there was no warmth next to me, no legs tangled in mine, no soft skin to let my curves fit into.  but the pen hits the paper and it’s like you are here.  coming around the corner with a hot toddy in your hand for me to sip on and sneaking a kiss as i lay out my thoughts.  when we were near, i needed only the comfort that was your eyes and the assurance of your heart, and i was safe.  but you’re half a world away now, and the path is being created each moment. i hear strains of dylan through the window of the cafe while i signed off with x’s and o’s, closing my eyes and opening them again.  i took the last sip of espresso and sealed the envelope, as i don’t worry anymore about saying the wrong thing to you.  you know my heart, you said.  and i listened.  and knew.  you weren’t just a distraction.