the sun has vanished
and the world has run cold.
and i can't
remember a time i've run to you
for warmth, intimate or otherwise.
but in the darkness?
you're all there is.
or rather,
you're all i'd like to see.
so i sprint to the monitor,
blue ribbon in hand—
hoping for a moment,
you sense the urgency in my
[hello! :)]
and the ice is creeping up my spine
as i wait
for three dots that promise a reply
you shoot back
[oh hi.]
and the milk that once
enriched my bones
curdles
and i fall to dust;
nervous.
you hold a power that frightens me
your warmth, your chill, like heights
(i like the view, but cannot breathe.)
and would you, as well, compare the light
to an embrace?
the switch of grey to red to green,
like the caress of the abyss?
i want to be known by you.
(but cannot bare to be perceived.)
message those who deserve a good bye.
like i'm leaving oz tomorrow;
like i can live in my dreams
of february.
i want to be known by you,
but as messages pile up
i'm buried.
80, 190, 270.
texts, sexts, mirrors, enemies.
(wishes to be seen.)
one more message then back to
the problem at hand, so
shuffle the deck until you know
whats wrong with me.
i can't keep pretending my
notifications are off when i'm
waiting for your reply,
( & i'm flooded by noise. )
but i, among the hurricane
in the eye of the storm
ask to be known by you.
if i don't reach out
will you?
if i was cursed to stay a ghost,
would you allow me to haunt your house?
i'm sorry i don't know how to be myself.
