I’m scared to speak because I need this peace, freshly captured once more, even if it’s false. I could scarcely cope with more scrupulosity today, or tomorrow.
Three days turn to five and two weeks turn to six. “I can’t get you out of my mind,” I first said so early on, yeilded with such naive yearning. How much more true it is now, because still, my mind is the only place I’m able to feel you.
I knocked, and knocked, and twice the door was slammed in my face. Third times aren’t really charming, but I do still dare to hope.
I can’t deplete the doubts in your mind. I can’t outpace those that race in mine. Whose theory of failure is more fair?
We’re stuck between a praised future and a forgotten past. I look forward to one day, even someday, when these dreams, now lifeless as stone, and chipped away as such, may take breath and run.
If you can’t sleep, then call me. You don’t have to miss me. We can stay nestled in these unknowns together, where I haven’t slept well in days.
-R.P.D. Sanders