I have spent countless nights
wishing on stars, and have wasted so
many precous humid afternoons
staring up at the clouds in the sky,
daydreaming my sanity away.
I’ve sat with this pen sewn into
my dainty palm, pouring my heart
onto these tattered pages, and
I would pretend that my blood
had turned to ink, that the words
would simply flow from me.
And then something changed, I could
see it hidden between the hazel tint
of your eyes, but the silence hung heavy
on my parted lips as I searched for the man
I once knew, and the words to bring him back.
And that’s when the distance truly
began, it was like this strange force
was separating us at a rapid pace.
I remember nights where we would lie
face to face, with the tips of our noses
brushing together, whispering our secrets
to the darkest shades of the night, and
we would wake up tangled in the sheets
locked in a warm embrace.
I remember when I would smile just
at the sound of your name, and you,
oh, how you looked at me, it was as if
I was the only splash of color
in this gray washed town.
But something changed, and when
I wake up each morning, with your back
facing me, I wonder how we have
become strangers to each other.
Some nights I lie awake, thinking that
maybe if I could remember the exact
moment where things began to
unravel, when the spark in our eyes
first began to dwindle, the precise
string of moments when we slowly
started to drift away from each other,
that perhaps I could change things.
If only I could remember what created
the growing distance between our hearts,
if I could kiss you from this haze, if I could
just get you to remember me, and the way
you once loved me, maybe you would come back.