| telephone_conversations | ||
| Soma |
Two weeks now, gods how I miss you. I hear your voice every day, stretching over miles of radio towers and streaming through the air to reach me. The static scatters your chuckle, but I would swear I could see your smile. Strange how telephones keep you so close, yet so far away. I wish I had a photo of you; I worry sometimes about forgetting how you look. When I have dreams, I never see your face. You. Telephone lines. Airwaves. A dropped call. A noisy background. A long silence. I'm working harder at finding things to say. But there aren't words that don't sound cheesy when all you can think is "I miss you" and "I just want you to hold me." I'm not a poet enough to express so succinctly my love for you. Typing eight letters into my cell phone to tell you how I feel isn't enough. I am tired of telephone conversations. I want to feel the warmth of your breath as you whisper in my ear, three_little_words. |
081227 |