After all this time, I could still
make out the slow movements of your mouth
through ****** speakers and static-filled telephone waves.
I could feel your tongue touching your lips an extra second more
whenever you talked; even the tiredness in your articulation
still reminded me of chocolate waterfalls.
After all this time, I still found comfort in your muffled tones.

It took all the courage I had (I hope you know)
to press those ten little digits I was so sure I had forgotten,
even as my heartbeat pumped through my ears like the drum solo
of my favourite song; loud enough for you to hear I was so sure.
Yet, my buried thoughts still crept around the grooves on my mind,
fighting against my senses to resist the urge
of revealing everything I really meant between the lines.
It went a little something like this:

Hi . . . uh, I know this is so out of the blue
I wish it wasn't this hard to say hello
I don't know, I just thought I'd see how you were doing
because I still care *******
How's everything?
I hope you'd say you'd missed me (too)
It's been a long time
It didn't have to turn out this way
Oh, how was . . .
I don't really care, I just need more time; more excuses to hear your voice
Well, it was really nice talking to you
please say this won't be our last good-
Bye.

- g.d.

How foolish of me to take a harmless quiz
to truly understand if I "got over" you yet.
Little did they know I walked across (and "got over")
the bridge we created a long while ago,
but I still remain on the other side
guarding it from unwanted visitors.

I "got over" the persistent reminders
that you would never say you loved me,
as well as the overwhelming whispers
that you would never walk me home anymore.
I "got over" your name falling to the bottom of my contact list,
and the fact that you never smiled when I was around.

I "got over" a lot of things, my dear,
yet I still took that test just to make sure
I "got over" your scent
and your touch and your taste.
And all it confirmed was:
not quite yet, but you're almost there.

I always knew quizzes were complete ******* because
boy, were they wrong.

- g.d.

Your touch used to feel like lightning; igniting my entire body
as if it were christmas lights you meant to wrap around the entire world.
Your fingertips followed dance routines on my arms,
leaving behind a path of hot embers right down to my thighs.

You set off fireworks in my chest the moment our skin
brushed against each other's ever so slightly;
those Roman Candles were almost lethal,
but it seems your extremities could revive me even after death.

You'd trigger static and sparks that would light up my eyes
and leave a tingling sensation through every limb.

I don't know what you did, my dear -
you materialized me -
made me inanimate just by your touch,
only awakened by the currents you transferred through your palms.

It's as if I were a light bulb,
plugged in forevermore in the socket of your grip.
You were electricity, darling, and I was water; my voltaic shock was inevitable.
You were fire and a sweet, sweet tempting bomb of affection I couldn't resist -
                        tick,
                                 tick,
                                          tick,
                                                    tock.
With all that energy we were bound to burn out.

But, in some attempt of insanity, you reached for my hand today
and I swore I saw those sparks start to pour out of your fingers once again.
And I almost reached out, drawn in by the flare
and ready for the charge to hit me like a murderer's bullet

almost

but instead,
I flinched.

- g.d.