I talked to you last night for the first time in a long time.
It felt good to hear you again.
When we go so long without contact,
my imagination grows awry with
conceptions of you.
A flurry of ideas that burn
through me like gasoline.
All this time apart, I forget that I know you.
I forget there was a time when the walls
between us crashed down and we lay
amongst the wreckage like lovers at the
end of the world.

It felt good to hear you again.
I could feel your beautiful pride in every word.
You phrase each sentence carefully,
never letting me forget who the culprit here is.
I broke your heart.
A full year of suffering, you told me,
after that first break.
I remember the unreachable highs
that came between the inescapable lows
better than you, but that is to be expected.
You burn with that unbreakable anger.

It felt good to hear you again.
It grounded me against all of the
delusions going on around us.
I was scared to think your apathy
had grown from a wish into reality.
You never said you still cared,
you would never allow it,
but I know the way you phrase your
words so that the true meanings can pass by
your pride without causing offense to it.

I talked to you last night for the first time in a long time.
It felt good to hear you again.
Over a year now since that first strike,
and here we are still,
trading blows in the trenches.

It felt good to remember
what I was fighting for again.