strange time in my life

and when I was away I took pictures of things and saw things and they all reminded me of you. we stood at a graffiti covered wall and placed my body next to your initial in a heart, with me in it too. and then there was a time where you wrote to me and said you were in love with me and then didn't reply to any of my emails for days. and a black cloud followed me and it rained and rained. then you ignored it and replied about other things and the sun shone again, in between clouds. and it is sad because I poured so much energy into it. and my friend said "don't let it ruin your holiday" and Amy kept saying "stop thinking about ****," but when I came back and you were all mine and you met her she said "I understand."
and I can't get any of that time back, I can't get that four weeks back for me and make it mean anything but your name. I can't touch the rough sunburnt skin on my back that I got in a beach in Croatia without thinking about how awful and horrible I felt the whole time on that holiday. uneasy and confused and frustrated with the time apart. and counting down the days. and that's not what it's meant to be like when you go away, is it? not constantly anxious and wishing you were back home.
and it wasn't even because I wanted to be kissing you in big London parks (well, I did,) but the main reasons were because I wanted to sort out what was happening. I wanted to make sure that you wanted to be mine. and you can re-read emails thousands of times, but they're never the same as face to face.