so often



If I thought, for even one millisecond, that you wanted to see me, I’d be there... anywhere... I’d break down doors to get to you. But, as it is, I don’t think that you have any interest whatsoever in where I am, what I do, or if I’m alive or not. And then you message me to ask me if I’ll be there and I am completely baffled. Why do you message and ask? You don’t say that you want me to be or don’t want me to be there. As usual, you leave me floundering in the empty space below and trying to scrape the walls of my mind for tiny shreds of evidence that you might be, in some quiet dark way that only you know, trying to reach out to me and say something. And yet so often when I reach out you tell me to fuck off.

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