The one who moves away from me.
The one who lives in a different mind now. The one who has rearranged the world.
I want you to know that I still want to talk to you. Not to just anybody. Not to fill some void. Not just to any random person.
It’s you I prefer to sit with. It’s your voice.
There are lots of moments actually, when the certain synapses that light up in my brain connect to you. To that missing place in the back of my head that you used to occupy.
You arrive now and then, at moments when I am not really expecting it. I was shopping for a new gas stove with a girlfriend in my dream two nights ago. We were taking a break in a cafe and I looked up and there you were, at the next table. I fumbled the introductions. I didn’t want you to disappear again. I wanted to grab ahold and make a run for it.
You were looking for me too… something that never happens in the daylight.
I wonder what you have for me. It’s like a recipe for a bread I once baked perfectly. I try again and again, but nothing I do will bring it to rise.
I have a list of questions for you, all of them mundane. What kind of music are you listening to now? Do you workout? What time do you fall asleep? I only want to ask you when I parked in my car. My No Man’s Land.
I still want to talk to you. I want to laugh the way we used to. I want to blather on and on about nothing and listen to music together. I want to dance.
I can’t figure out how to unbreak the broken.