Question

I shouldn’t wait for your name
to light up my screen,
but it does
soft as a promise.

You’re someone else’s miracle,
and I keep telling myself
I’m only the echo,
only the voice you visit
when the world feels heavy.

But then you call
and suddenly I’m weightless.
Your laugh spills through the speaker,
and I forget all the rules
I swore I’d remember.

I tell you everything
things I’ve never said aloud,
things I shouldn’t feel
and you listen
like you already knew.

And when our goodbyes stretch
a little too long,
I feel the truth press in:
I want you
in every way I can’t have you.

So I keep the ache quiet,
let the computer rest in my hand,
and pretend for one more night
that wanting you
isn’t the same
as losing you.

I want you but you are taken -addy