Word Vomit

I sliced my leg open and couldn’t think of who else to panic call and honestly didn’t think you’d answer the phone. I’m so glad you did.

It was wild seeing your face, you haven’t changed. You say you have, but you’re still YOU. You’re still behind your 39 year old eyes that have seen all the things and between your eyes and the things you said I wanted more.

I went in hungry and came out starving.

I didn’t want to hang up, I wanted to drink you in. I wanted your mouth and the words inside it. I wanted the moon you took me outside to see at midnight your time in the dark of your porch.

3 and a half hours.

You used to call me like clockwork, every Thursday at 8 EST. I would turn the radio down in my car to listen for the phone at 7:59. You had me trained and always left me wanting more.

How do you do your magic? How do you change me from strong independent woman to tethered to your heart doing tricks like a puppy begging for your attention and devotion.

I want to upend my life and unfold for you.

But I remember how the story ended last time.

Is this a sequel or spinoff?

Are you thinking of me when you pick up your paintbrush that I harassed you jokingly over? I saw you absentmindedly cleaning it when you turned the camera wrong. I saw you see yourself as others do, but not like I see you. I saw you concerned that I wouldn’t see you in the right light.

You live in a light that is your own.

Let it shine.

Let me bask in it.