I Just Wanted To Call

There’s moments without you. Sweeping weekends and slippery weeks. Months when I fear you’ve abandoned me. Or even worse, that I’ve somehow abandoned you. I never could, you know. Not truly. I think even in these blocks, you scatter my mind. Unconsciously and unaware, writing my e’s in your hand and stomping on streets you once charted.

Then you clock me. You deck me straight in the nose. Off-kilter, off balance, besides myself, choking in your smother, I am consumed and utterly bruised in you.

You are everywhere. My mind, the sick cinema, remembers you well. It finds your eyes in a crowd, sometimes harrowingly in a mirror, always through theirs.

You didn’t leave much, just enough. Enough to salt the burn, enough to steal my sleep or my focus in a lecture.

There you are. Where’d you go that last time? How long do I get you for?