October 17, 2008
By Alexa Campos, Parker, CO


I pretend you’re still here,
That we still sit together on the bus,
And that you’re still holding my hand.
But I’m in this seat alone again today—
My hand resting on the cold vinyl.

I convince myself your breath is on the wind,
And I swear that some days I can taste it—
That same warmth I always felt when you spoke.
When I’m lonely, I lie outside and wait for the wind,
But it never visits me.

I tell myself at night that this time you’ll call,
And in my dreams you talk to me for hours,
Just the way you always used to.
And some nights, I catch myself jumping up
To answer the phone that isn’t ringing.

Every night
I leave my window open, you know.
And I lay my head right beside that phone
But nothing ever happens;
And I wake up the next morning
Pretending even more.

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This article has 1 comment.

BJL said...
on Oct. 26 2008 at 1:34 pm
She is very gifted and I love how she writes.


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