To the girl who loves Icarus

I know you’re there,
whispering behind the thin grey curtain.
If I squint, I can see you smile,
a ghost of something so long faded.

Waterstained, from the tears hot and briny.
Think we’d drowned
from our combined efforts?
Or is it all just me and do you sit so hollow
like you used too before my eyes?

Blank screen, unwritten e-mail
The feel of keys beneath my fingertips
A thousand things that I could never write
I want to tell you but it never comes out right

Click the “X”
Another day defeated
The hungry worm begins to gnaw again
on the bones I willingly throw it.
And I suddenly have this image:
You alone, curled and looking out a window,
isolated and so existential.

May the second,
one hour at the most.
Not a word was said yet I remember
there were lines around your eyes
and your blue shirt was so appropriate.

Since that day,
not a word save for a few odd e-mails.
Relayed messages between the mothers,
not quite the same thing as shooting devils,
whales named Sheila, carmel scented squishes,
tea with a center, James and # 4 and singing in the hallways.

I wish that I could paint a smile on your face
and once again you’d be the only friend
that ever mattered.
It’s selfish, please forgive me, but all I want is a word.
I feel like we’re on different islands and May the second
will be my last memory of you.
I love you.
Call me please.