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#sorrowing
You called again last night As you have Every night before, And I felt your hand brush against mine As if it slithered through the aging wires Of our telephones; Despite the countless miles Between us To feel the warmth of my love Once more. Did no one think to tell you, Darling, That my love has since gone cold? Did they think to tell you that the miles have become But mere symbols Of the distance between my heart and yours? Did no one bother reminding you, Lover, That your hand touched many others In the dead of the night When it promised to come home to mine And that I cannot help but wonder If those hands miss yours, Like mine before them, Even when I knew about what you did? You asked if we could talk And I couldn’t help but remember that Seven months ago I made that plea my own; This time, For you, It’s nothing more than borrowed words. I say we forget the smalltalk, Sweetheart; The pointless conversation about our mothers and The way you can never decide between a striped And a plaid shirt. Forget about the weather, and My love of the stars Because you never really cared for them anyway And I want to know how it felt To walk away from The person you pretended to love. I want to know if you boasted When you told everyone About the silly little girl back home; The one who jumped at her own shadow, Or the one that didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror Looking back at her, And even the girl you made feel worthwhile Despite her visions of never quite being good enough For the world she so desperately wanted to love. I want to know if you told them about Every fear; Every flaw that I have ever dared to wear Because it seemed that nothing else could fit quite right And it’s easier anyway to settle with Draping insecurity across your back When you find that confidence just doesn’t come in your size. I want to know if you thought of me, Honey, When you took her out to tea and She always chose my favourite. Or if you ever thought that maybe you shouldn’t Take her to bed with you. Not because you’re afraid that I might find out But because three hours away I was dreaming about you And how could you let yourself become One of my greatest nightmares? I want to know if your heart broke, Even a little, When you saw me crying at The place where we first met; The place where I first told you I loved you; The place where I finally let go of your hand And in it’s place I put my own. You’ll call again tomorrow, Darling, In a drunken haze your heart will whisper my name As clumsily as your mouth does. I’ll feel your hand brush against mine; I always do, And while your voice echoes through the aging wires Of our telephones, Whispering tentative absurdities, like “For old times’ sake” Or “I never meant for us to be like this.” I’ll find the strength to pull away my hand And put down the phone. You see, No more do I long for the touch of a ghost Or the words of a boy who loved me even less than I could ever love myself.
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
amber-walker
Seven months later and you haven't stopped calling
You called again last night As you have Every night before, And I felt your hand brush against mine As if it slithered through the aging wires Of our telephones; Despite the countless miles Between us To feel the warmth of my love Once more. Did no one think to tell you, Darling, That my love has since gone cold? Did they think to tell you that the miles have become But mere symbols Of the distance between my heart and yours? Did no one bother reminding you, Lover, That your hand touched many others In the dead of the night When it promised to come home to mine And that I cannot help but wonder If those hands miss yours, Like mine before them, Even when I knew about what you did? You asked if we could talk And I couldn’t help but remember that Seven months ago I made that plea my own; This time, For you, It’s nothing more than borrowed words. I say we forget the smalltalk, Sweetheart; The pointless conversation about our mothers and The way you can never decide between a striped And a plaid shirt. Forget about the weather, and My love of the stars Because you never really cared for them anyway And I want to know how it felt To walk away from The person you pretended to love. I want to know if you boasted When you told everyone About the silly little girl back home; The one who jumped at her own shadow, Or the one that didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror Looking back at her, And even the girl you made feel worthwhile Despite her visions of never quite being good enough For the world she so desperately wanted to love. I want to know if you told them about Every fear; Every flaw that I have ever dared to wear Because it seemed that nothing else could fit quite right And it’s easier anyway to settle with Draping insecurity across your back When you find that confidence just doesn’t come in your size. I want to know if you thought of me, Honey, When you took her out to tea and She always chose my favourite. Or if you ever thought that maybe you shouldn’t Take her to bed with you. Not because you’re afraid that I might find out But because three hours away I was dreaming about you And how could you let yourself become One of my greatest nightmares? I want to know if your heart broke, Even a little, When you saw me crying at The place where we first met; The place where I first told you I loved you; The place where I finally let go of your hand And in it’s place I put my own. You’ll call again tomorrow, Darling, In a drunken haze your heart will whisper my name As clumsily as your mouth does. I’ll feel your hand brush against mine; I always do, And while your voice echoes through the aging wires Of our telephones, Whispering tentative absurdities, like “For old times’ sake” Or “I never meant for us to be like this.” I’ll find the strength to pull away my hand And put down the phone. You see, No more do I long for the touch of a ghost Or the words of a boy who loved me even less than I could ever love myself.
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