I miss you

It’s an ache in my bones.



i fantasize I’ll open my door one day
to see you standing there
throwing caution to the wind
reckless abandon
taking life in the moment
and showing it up
tossing worry plans smart moves
to the gutter

take me in your arms
hold me in your arms

it’s not just a cell phone

my days go on and on without you here
without you here

your voice
my name
audible smile
our souls
across lines
across waves
of electricity
d i s c o n n e c t e d
miles miles
paved oceans
under wired
no sight
no thought
no taste
colourless world
your name
my voice
our souls

my days go on and on without you here
without you here

I don’t ask for sympathy

just for understanding.

I have to prioritize everything that is already important. You’re lucky I get even half of it done, so stop pissing and deal with it. I never said I don’t care, I just can’t take time to worry about things that are unsolvable.

I’m sorry I don’t meet your standards.

Suck it.

You see in, I see through.

You see yourself in a mirror. Foggy and blurry with the grime of age and self-cynical deceit. The reflection grimaces back at you, mocking you with its very presence. That crooked smile, unruly hair…and underneath. Underneath. The failings and flaws, the can’t-dos and will-nevers. The worries and struggles, to be future realities. The light in the room is dim. Barely there. It flickers every once in awhile, but it’s hard to notice. Not with that…thing in front of you.

I stand on the other side and see you through a mirror, but you can’t see. You can’t see. I can watch you, you know. And I know what I’m looking at. Clean and refined, cutest dimples and twinkling eyes. Smart and determined, loving and kind. You have a soul of gold. You can do anything you put your mind to, even down to wiping away a smudge on the mirror, bringing out what I see from the other side. I’ve watched it once or twice before. That deft finger coming up to the glass after the light in the room flickers, brightens. You hesitate. Once. Twice. Then swipe. Away another small bit of the grime.

It hurts sometimes, all that foggy blur of insecurities. It reaches out to me and pinches my arm, bringing back to reality my fanciful dreams and wishes. Maybe you like it that way, dirt and all. Perhaps my attempt (from the other side) to wipe it clean, is futile.

All I want
is for you to see
what I see.