Hello from the other side,

I must have called a thousand times




Starting in the middle fits, because there was no real beginning, 

no actual end 


There was years of not knowing, followed by years of imagining,

and now, years later

more of the same 


What is left is an accumulation of both what I remember and what I forgot, 

what she remembers and ten thousand questions still unanswered


The past, obscured by my poor memory, is as gray as the future

both imagined and feared 


It is not possible her recollections are similar

I bet she didn't even keep track of all the calls I didn't make 




At least I can say that I've tried




lyrics in italics-  Adele 

I must have called a thousand times, but I never heard your voice. Every day after forcing myself to drive into work, on my rare weekends off, late at night, first thing in the morning, after I finished buying groceries, before I threw in a load of laundry, and again when it was stiff and dry on the line. I must have called your name a thousand times, my voice expressing the emotions I felt when you were a larger part of my life. I shouted in ecstasy, remembering the juicy sweating mornings and tongue tied tequila flavored nights. I cried in pain, wailing into the void at the unfairness of life.

Sometimes I laughed a bit breathlessly, remembering the times you tickled my feet. Other times I whispered softly, careful not to disturb the wintering cardinals that were nesting in our favorite bush. I must have called a thousand times, ten thousand maybe, I lost track when I was going through old pictures, the few items of clothing I still had of yours losing their color, their shape, your scent. I grieved publicly and privately, ashamed, yet glad because for that short incredibly sweet period of time, we had had each other, and now I realize that you had been enough.

P.S. I still write you love letters.

When I was younger

you once told me

When you were younger

all your dreams had been nightmares

and all your nightmares had been filled

with wolves hunting

you through the forest

You were plagued by migraines

for decades


and now it's my turn

When I was younger

we were never out of the woods

we were never in the clear

and now it's my turn


I am older

and so are



Maybe they were really right

but they chose the wrong words

And we are truly the same

tied together by invisible strings

trespassing age, time and blood

I was always the only one

who listened

who felt

who loved



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