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Counting Backwards

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On the second day of your absence,
I find my thumbnails in the quick;
my index finger twitching towards
the phone. The weight of silence suffocating me; my arm flinches, returning back to hang at my side. I am stronger than a mere thought.

I've been curled up in this ball for sometime now; afraid a single movement will knock off the balance of my yin and yang (a.k.a.: my will-power).

With the distraction of passing seconds, the weight eases; gradually lifting. Until I look down and see the spaces in between my fingers; empty.

Reciting the chemical symbols on the table of elements to myself will no longer suffice.

I roll over and hit the big red button in my head; rewind or self- destruct. Either way I have a 100/100 chance of agony.

Reliving every moment,
Memories hanging around like Christmas lights in January,
Pretending to forget
what's been carved into my eyelids,
Avoiding the unavoidable;
Attempting the impossible?

I dial your number.
555-555-0559
My fingers know it faster than my brain.
I do not cover the receiver this time.
I do not prevent your untainted ears from hearing what you caused.
I do not hide this burden I have been carrying around.
I know this is your fault.
So
I wait for that casual, ever familiar:
"Hey"
Smirk at the irony,
and let you hear the soft crackling of my heart while it breaks.





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