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You never called me back.

It was the only night I really needed you, the one night my heart felt like an icicle waiting to crack open.

I sat on my windowsill, watched the sun go down as the sky turned pink and slowly became dark. The phone was in one hand, a cigarette constantly in the other.

The sky grew dark, a few stars appeared. You can never see that many stars in a city, all the lights seem to flush them out. The north star always remains constant, always remains bright. It’s almost like a sense of security overcomes me to know that it is there, always there along with the moon. You get used to seeing certain stars in the city.

My mind raced with the thought of you, thinking of the right words to say to you, the right things to make you understand the way I think, what’s going on. After so long nothing but absent thought was left in my mind, nothing left to analyze. Only the moon left to gaze at.

I smoked a whole pack of cigarettes that night, smoked the last one right down to the filter. When I was done I ran my finger down the scar that had once opened my chest so that the hole in my heart could be patched over. I wonder sometimes if I met you to fill the hole in my heart. Maybe the patch wasn’t enough?

This twisted melody keeps playing over in my head, ever since that day. Ever since the day I never heard from you again.

I thought a lot that day, right before the moon rose above my head and I could barely see the galaxy over my head, barely – not quite entirely.

I thought that maybe someday I’ll be able to convert this melody into a thought, and that thought into a word and that word into an action. Maybe only then will we be safe from each other.

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