‘I’ll Call You In The Morning …’

I’ll call you in the morning.

I’ll make it all better then.
When we pressed our lips until Sunday, I didn’t know they would touch again.
So while we met much later as the sun set and the river raced by, I was startled by the memory. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
You were bold and just barely visible while aglow in the evening light. I heard you say, “Just keep walking. Just keep quiet. Just let me be.”
I let you have your way for a moment, but then my heart got the better of me.
“You can’t really believe I’ll just let you melt into the distance while I try to convince myself you’re a mirage, a phantom of that evening.”
No, no, you are more. A candle’s flame licking at my skin. A burning thought. A hot wax smile on my hand.
And now the sun has poured you before me. Shaped you so perfectly. Pretty widow of ashes and ardency.
“We won’t be saved from the flames. I’m just warning you,” I say with certainty.
We circle closer. Two satellites.
You come and go. Come and go.
You take some pills and attempt to lose yourself in the night. I wait and listen. Losing my mind.
I find the song to bring you back. “Oslo” beckons from stereo lips.
“Mistaken, it’s not meant to be this/It’s not meant to be love/Crossing path and that is all/And that was all.”
And, yes, I pass right through you. And, yes, I am close. And, yes, I know I cannot stay.
But say for my sake that you missed me. And I’ll say I’d rather not go.
The lights perspire and splatter us with visions of our kisses goodbye.
I know. I know. I know.
I don’t know what you mean to me.
And perhaps it is better I forget the hours you were with me, a light in my hand.
I’ve stared too long and you’ve taken my vision, my ability to understand.
I thought I had a heart for more, but I’m just a postcard man.
I come to make an impression and then I get lost among the papers and books and other good times you’ve had.
So let me stop before it gets too late.
I’ll call you in the morning and break you softly, I swear. I’ll make it all better then with my awkward excuses and obvious mistakes.

———

For the curious, “Oslo” is a song by Blonde Redhead. And, yes, this is a work of fiction. 🙂

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