Fear is draining out of every pore in my body, exhausting me extensively. Sometimes my eyes won’t open because they are afraid themselves of what the new day may bring. My dreams hold me in a constant state of torment. I am worn down like an old coat hung up in some closet somewhere, never to cover another. And I keep thinking…wondering…isn’t there meaning in me? Some sort of worth? When he remembers me, if he remembers me, does he think about anything that makes him want to hold me again? In his dreams, if he still dreams of me, am I lovely anymore?
I think about him so much that I create a mindflow of actual nothingness. My words gather up a meaningless agenda. A way to manipulate him back into my arms. Pieces of me scatter into chaos…pure insanity. Everything I do lacks justification. Things are said and done in painful desperation. The wait tortures every crevous of my bleeding heart. I just want to know where it all stands and what it all means…if anything – why won’t he call me?
