I almost miss the sound of your voice but know that the rain outside my window will suffice for tonight. Im not drunk yet, but we havent spoken in months now and I wanted to tell you that someone threw a bouquet of roses in the trash bin on the corner of my street, and I wanted to cry because, because well, you know exactly why. And, I guess Im calling because only you understand how that would break my heart.
Im running out of things to say. My gas is running on empty. Ive stopped stealing pages out of poetry books, but last week I pocketed a thesaurus and looked for synonyms for you but could only find rain and more rain and a thunderstorm that sounded like glass, like crystal, like an orchestra. I wanted to tell you that Im not afraid of being moved anymore; Not afraid of this heart packing up its things and flying transcontinental with only a wool coat and a pocket with a folded-up address inside. Ive saved up enough money to disappear. I know you never thought the day would come.
Do you remember when we said goodbye and promised that it was only for then? Its been years since I last saw you, years since we last have spoken. Sometimes, it gets quiet enough that I can hear the cicadas rubbing their thighs against each others. Ive forgotten almost everything about you already, except that your skin was soft, like the belly of a peach, and how you would laugh, making fun of me for the way I pronounced almonds like I was falling in love with language.