Do You See What I See?

It’s snowing outside my window. The first snow of my New England season and I can smell you on my sheets because I didn’t change them last Sunday. But I have changed them every Sunday since I moved here last summer; taken them off, washed and softened them, put them back on, making my bed on that day so it can become disheveled the rest of the week. So now I see the snow and I smell you and it’s like you’re here in bed next to me, your hand rubbing my bare back while you watch TV and I write quietly beside you. It makes me angry, and maybe a little sad, but I let the anger take over because the sadness swells tears in my eyes that I don’t need any more of during the snowy season. I text you without thinking.
It’s snowing, my sheets smell like you I say
When I was there your sheets smelled like you. I’m jealous of the snow You say
Well now they smell like you. And I’m alone in the snow
I wish I was there with you
They lit up the tree tonight, in the park I say
Wish I was there to see it
Me too
And now the anger gives way to sadness; the kind that comes from longing and wanting when alone. The white flakes are wet and washing over the city out my window and I want to open it and touch a few, to feel their magic rub off on me. So I go downstairs and walk out the lobby doors in my sweatpants and t-shirt; with a hat and mittens but no coat. The crystal flakes fall on my nose and on my bare arms, but I’m not cold. I stand there watching the glittering snow wash over the water across the street from my building, imagining how perfect this would be if you were here now, if we were holding hands and kissing on the street, or even just holding hands and never kissing at all. I think back to that moment when you were here, that almost kiss that got lost in my unanswered questions and your crying and my needing to be stronger than tears.
The door man stares at me, sensing my sadness and solitude he asks if I am okay.
“What gave me away?” I say
“You’re not wearing a coat for one.”
“Oh”
“The snow can be lonely.” He says
And I turn my head to stare at the sight of it, barely able to see through the storm, “Yea, I guess it can.”
I stand there in silence and so does he, and I don’t even know his name but now I feel like he knows me better than anyone in this city. I smile at him and I walk back inside while he holds the door and I push the up button to the elevator where I ride to the sixth floor and lie down on my cozy comforter and try not to smell the sheets with your scent. I stand up to shut the blinds to my window and collapse on my side, calling anyone and everyone in my address book; except you. No one answers. I shut off the Christmas music blaring from my alarm clock and I try closing my eyes; but it’s only 9pm and my body refuses sleep. I am sad, but I should be tranquil in this winter wonderland of white and wishful thinking and whimsical snowmen and reindeer. I want to tear the sheets from my bed but I can’t bring myself to move and so I breathe in and rest upon them, beside you.
My phone displays your words, I miss you
I read them without response, hoping that when the snow is finished falling I won’t miss you too.