newford

Mellifluous
2018-08-17 04:44:04 (UTC)

Treats

Is it just me? This overwhelming desire to think of you. Why? It's been over ten years now, yet here I am. I'm fifteen years old again, in my room with the door closed. It's night, but there's a full moon shining into my window. Your voice is in my ear. I can hear the sound of your guitar, I can almost see how you breathe in into the phone. You said I was your muse, and I got tingly feelings in my arms. How lame, right?

We talked for eight hours that night. You were back at home. Were you broken up by then, or were you just about to head to Canada? I don't remember that. I must have chosen not to. I distinctly recall you asking, somewhat suddenly, if I was crying. Maybe in the sixth or seventh hour, the high of our conversation was settling, and I was falling, falling into my feelings about us. How strange we are. I was thinking, and then you asked that.

Would things have changed if I told you I was? Would you have seen me in a different way or felt for me unlike what you've felt ever before? You wouldn't have left for Canada, or been stuck in a heartbroken rut. I wasn't crying that night. I don't cry when I talk to you. In those moments, I'm too happy.

But time passes, and the memories flood back and the feelings catch up and I get the urge to think of you. I can't call you anymore, so this as close as I can get to hearing your voice in my ear again.




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