Hearing his voice for the first time in 4 years is like disbelief. You can't believe it, you don't want to, because you didn't forget what it sounded like, you just want the real thing. You want the jagged edges that curved around certain letters. the rasp of new breath filling his lungs, to form that next sentence to tell you that he loves you, or he's proud of the person you've become. It doesn't matter that you don't like the person, because he has created the line of life and light that contains the cage of your heart, the mistakes you've made, the lineage that follows after your stupendous soul, the bindle of hurt that you've caused, the pouch of tears you've cried, the memories you've somehow turned into a movie just for you when you need a radiant thought.
YOU ARE READING
Faded Blue Jeans
PoetryThis is a book of poetry written by me, but if it is not then I'll put the owner in the chapter.
