It’s getting late
I've been watching the numbers on my phone tick by
The hands on the old grandfather clock spun
My fingers drum the table
I contemplate dialing your number
The same number I had memorized just months ago
Months broken down into days
Disintegrated into a matter of hours
Just hours ago I had meant everything to you
I long for the time just as minutes ago
When I was your everything
You were my world
And I longed to call you
Whisper that truth I’ve been waiting to tell
But the fact that you’ve forgotten me long ago was holding me back
The funny thing about how my mind works is
I cannot forget people, you see
When someone enters my life
They intertwine themselves with my mind
Not just as a memory, but a reoccurring thought
A thought that crawls out of the depths of my brain every night
At the exact same time
Coincidentally, that time is now, 2:47 in the morning
The sun has fallen and the moon has filled its pace.
Yet my mind is conscience and racing, sprinting laps around that number
Your number
Debating whether I should type that number in and call
whether r the line should fall flat
Or the call would lead me straight to you
Straight to that voice, your voice.
Just another factor that I miss about you
A matter of months and days or hours and minutes ago
You were the breath in my lungs
The blood in my veins
And bones in my back
The thing you may not know is
You still are.