Do you ever wonder what it is like to be a ghost? Dressed up all pretty for a party that will never come, living in solitude haunting those you love? All you want to do is speak, but they can't ever hear you. You picture yourself standing beside them in a mirror and they are utterly ignorant to you, and inconversant to every word you whisper, bouncing off walls of linoleum and porcelain.
This is a nightmare, and I am waiting to awaken.
He looks so handsome tonight. Not dressed up. Not in a mass magnitude of glamour. Just the average t-shirt and jeans. His hair is in it's usual mess, and swept over his eyes just a little so that every now and then he moves it so his vision isn't blurred. This is the way I picture him, and he's never looked better.
In my mind I construct this illusion of myself immediately beside him. Sharing secrets and making them up. Drawing and writing little notes in the palms of one anothers' hands.
And then I awaken from this daydream and realize that he can't hear a fucking word that I'm saying. And he hasn't seen me beside him in a matter of moments. This makes me starve for a telephone conversation, a connection by some means to his attention and psyche.
So I wait by the phone and anxiously await for it to ring. For some reason I know exactly when it's him calling, but even so I get disappointed every time it rings and it isn't.
I wish every time I starved for him I could just get in a car, start the ignition, take the wheel and go in his direction.
I know that if I used all of my strength to get to him that she would catch me before I fell weakened to the floor.
This is me missing the man that I love. A ghost. A shell. But I'd go through hell for him. And this is far from it. |
Submission Name: There are no words for longing
