by Maggie Burke ’19
Your name lights up my screen, and I instantly drown in a memory of when we communicated by a simple hand squeeze, not fingers tapping keys, those talks come with far less ease. Out of the corner of my eye, I could always catch your smile, that one that has been missing for a while, after headlining private concerts in your passenger seat, after offering man’s best friend a tasty treat, after kissing you goodnight and becoming lost under sheets. Do you remember the way our bodies would collide when we’d sleep? Is it too cliché to think of you as a perfectly fitting puzzle piece? Embarrassed to admit how much I love you trusting me with the spilled contents of your soul, allowing me to release you from the crushing weight of the world. Even more embarrassed to admit how much I love it when you call me baby, or when you laugh, or when you say “that’s my girl.” But then came the distance. James forgets to call even when he has given his word. James doesn’t know how to communicate, but pretends like he heard. James says “I miss you” but the sound is slurred, the meaning is blurred, and I’m left looking absurd to my friends and family who say I can do better. I can do better. The excuses have grown stale, hardened by a lack of compassion or original thought. The reserved place in my heart is opening its fastened gates, please recognize this last shot. Almost completely dry with nothing left to give; I still want it to be you. But no one loves me more than me, and I would rather be fulfilled as a one than be lonely as the lesser half of a two.