Aside my own complexities, I catch myself deep in thought, longing to unwravel you. You are a vacant seat in a theater round, perhaps the only one, and you stand out, striking like matches in a dark, empty place. And I feel you, from center stage-and wonder if I'm safer alone here, exposed, or naked in my room. I'm running from shadows.
Aside this hallow, where I hear my phone ring, and the echos keep me hoping, lay the broke down freight train, I named desire. I longed for you with callous eyes, and deeply mourning breaths which I stole from others along the way. You were a cadence steering my misdirected heart south, to a warmer climate and there I could burn.
Aside that, aside the scars you left me with, and the lessons learned, I find my mind running to you. Strides long and fast and strong, and you are the furthest point from me. I'll never be closer, you won't let me, but I have this piece- a mere bread-crumb- and it's stale taste makes me wonder how sweet is was- before it broke off.
Aside the crowd, the voices and the hush before the lights, is that vacant seat. And it means more to me empty than it could full- for I am safer center-stage, than lost in blank pages my mind would fill with ideals birthed of bread crumbs and warmer climates and the faint echos of a phone that won't ring.