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By Ali Date: 2007 Sep 22 Comment on this Work [[2007.09.22.08.21.21515]] |
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It's eleven o'clock. My air conditioner won't stop running. My sheets and blankets are freezing. I wish you were here. Which is a funny thought, really. Because you're not (technically) mine. Even if I want you to be, even if I wish...well, I wish too many things. It's endearing, really. A throwback to the past, the rest of me that hides behind these lines, in between the things I don't let you see. The things I say, but don't. The absence where there should be warmth. I'm never simple. I'm a spark that's turned into a raging fire. But even the wind can still blow me out, cancel the light, for lack of air. Lack of combustion. If I could fix it, I would--and there'd never be a word about it. Except you...you're the one holding the matches. |