Thursday, December 10, 2009

My Turn.

It’s 2:13am.

I know this because my clock radio is shining right in my face. The power must have went out and changed its settings; I never keep the light on. I sleep in pure darkness, with only a streetlight shining it. It’s not bright enough for me to complain, but it’s bright enough for me to know it’s there. I won’t let it keep me up.

It’s 2:14am.

And you’re not next to me. This isn’t anything new, of course, but I still miss it. I’m on your side of the bed to try and regain it, but my body doesn’t fit your groove. I guess we really weren’t the connecting puzzle pieces that I thought we were.

It’s 2:20am.

I’m thinking about where you are. I’m thinking about who you’re with. I’m thinking about who you’re laying next to. I’m thinking about what you two just did. I’m thinking about every goddamn position you were in. I’m thinking about the scratches on his back that used to be on mine. I’m thinking about the bed squeaking. I’m thinking about the sweat dripping. I’m thinking about the empty words said in the heat of it all. I’m thinking how that used to be me with you. I’m thinking I’m going to throw up.

It’s 3:03am.

I need to see how you’re doing.

It’s 3:05am.

I still can’t pick up the phone to call you. I know it’s late, and I hope to God you’re sleeping by now. I know if I still had you, we wouldn’t be asleep. I realized what I did wrong. Come home.

It’s still 3:05am.

Maybe I’ll just text you. Just see how you are. You can get it in the morning and smile. You’ll realize that walking away was just a mistake on your part. You’ll ask me to meet you somewhere for a late dinner. I will spend the entire day wondering what will come of all of this. We will meet and talk until 3am. You’ll realize you still love me. We will start fresh and new. This is our chance to right our wrongs.

It’s 3:06am.

Instead, I’ll just delete your number. I know it’ll help to not see your name every time I scroll through.

It’s 3:07am.

I forgot that deleting your number doesn’t give me sudden amnesia and make me forget it. I’ve memorized a handful of telephone numbers in my life; why does yours have to take up so much real estate?

It’s 4:12am.

This silence isn’t working anymore. I have always used music to distract me. Maybe it’s time for me to channel Springsteen? He always knows what to do.

It’s 4:21am.

…and the end of “4th Of July, Asbury Park” just makes me think of you. Did you really ruin “The Boss” for me? Did you really steal our common ground? I’ve got to be up for work in a half hour. Things can’t get much better.

It’s 4:24am.

Just kidding. Hearing “For You” just made this night that much better. Whatever higher power is out there is just fucking with me now. Well played.

It’s 4:30am

Oh my God, I forgot about the other “you.” The “you” that I met after you left. She was going to take your place, and I left her high and dry. I was at the point where I thought nothing could take your place. I held you at such a high standard that you were untouchable. But, she was great. Does it seem desperate to text someone at 4:30 in the morning? Oh well. Swallow my pride, and turn on whatever debonair I have left.

It’s 4:36am.

She was awake. You wouldn’t have ever been awake right now. You had to get at least eight hours of sleep or night, or you were a nightmare the next day. I’m delusional, but I can see straight enough to know that maybe this is fate.

It’s 4:55am.

She pulled an all-nighter studying. She’s a creative writing major. She collects records. She knows all of those bands that you never wanted to go see with me. She’s everything you’re not. She’s everything I just may need.

It’s 5:00am.

How does it feel to know that you’re not the only one who can write off our past?

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