You tell me you listen.
Your ears, I see, are open,
but with your mind drifting
somewhere else. A world away,
a girl away. You can't call it
cheating. It's not
out
loud

I talk to you about my day,
you study my face but
instead reflect hers in it. Sometimes I wish
I didn't have this power
to read you so damn well. You're impossibly
open, only to me.
I cannot miss a single thought
of yours, every word you ever heard
from her a letter, tucked away forever
yet mine seem to blow
right through your ears with
the winter wind, desperate and
numb.

As I pass to you a story,
hoping it might get through,
just once, this time,
I hear a reminder of her voice in your ear,
and watch it brighten your spirit
like mine never has.

I'm glad to see your smile but
I wonder, if it's not from me,
what am I doing here? Crafting,
perfecting it, for what?
My own satisfaction.

Suddenly, I stop talking.
You look up at me,
brows furred,
you have no idea
what's going on in my head.
(that's unbelievable to me)

Your translucent world is not
so lonely, after all,
with her in your heart. Without me
in the flesh, I do not come close
to the feeling of knowing
she is out there. Her idea stomps
me, right here,
camping out in front of you.
As I walk away, not having said
a word,
she comforts you in your confusion.

The distance does not matter now,
I'm inches and miles and years away so
I leave you with her, and finally have no idea
what's happening in your mind.
I reunite my own thoughts, and find
they work better on their own.