on my way home

on my birthday.. i recieved a book from a friend.
due to certain misunderstandings.a fight was on the prowl.
i saw the book. said the obvious. and left it at that.
i am going home now. for a break.
we have almost stopped talking to each other.
distance has creeped in... slowly... slimely...
i need a book to read on the flight back.
out of the lack of another choice i carry this one.
its called the bookseller of kabul.
i have checked in. i sit at the airport.
i open the book.
and find a note... a note written then...
a note i didnt know was inside.
to tinkles of laughter, and volumes of joy
to heartfelt happiness, to a completeness of being..
to the warmth you emanate.. to the softness i find.
to the immense friendship you brought into my life..
i love you my sweetheart... with all my soul. she says....
now,i wish i had woken her up. said goodbye.
told her what i had felt. and not kept it within.
i wish i had let her know how much i will miss her.
this feeling... of being loved...
is indescribable....
ill be back in a week ... and then.. i will tell her.
not keep anything hidden.
i told her to express, somehow i forgot to.
or perhaps didnt feel the need to.
thought she'd know.
now things seem out of hand.
too much bitterness, i have allowed to home in me.
but i will be back in a week. it will be all better then. i know..
im warm now... the airport air conditioning was killing me.