I have developed a temporary dislike of the things that I’ve convinced myself have been keeping you away from me. Mere substitutes that admitted to the murder of your mind.
This phone, and this 11 o’clock moon have slayed my reason’s for not just blaming your wandering eye.
Most of these nights I’ve tried Ctrl.Alt.Del.(ing) any ridiculous thoughts, by selecting all of the frequently frustrating things that know just how to push my buttons. I don’t know why I’m speaking in computer terms, but lately I haven’t been able to function quite right unless I’m near one. It’s the only way to get near you.
Most of these nights, this phone has been the entire left side of my brain, but now my mattress has memorized the rhythm to a ringtone it should’ve never been introduced to, and now the stupid cushion keeps me awake until it has made sure that I’ve felt it vibrating up my spine. My intuitive, creative right brain seems to remember being together with it’s brother each and every time I remember laying together beside you.
I wait for a wanting of your wanting. Muscle memories of warm bodies wrapped up in positions that make your mind say ‘what the ****?’ I am missing you. The you who remembers that the other members of her body are always here to help; no need to amputate a listening ear, or an gouge out an attentive eye. I still see you.
Sometimes, I forget that the phone’s main function is to send a signal of information to someone you can’t see. Whether it be via text, twitter app or vocally, you want to reach someone you can’t see. I still see you.
Sometimes, I swear I can see each of the moon’s phases during the day; completely filled with life during the time when it’s nearly invisible. It’s sad though, because New Moon, you show yourself to everyone else except me on the nights I always expect to see your face. Is this a trick man? or have my eyes been gouged out already, and I simply missed the painful message via text, twitter app or vocally? But still, whether with two eyes, four eyes or no eyes, I still see you.
Copyright © Spenser Jones