My fingers are quivering.
Not a full blown shake, but my chest holds no courts. Never waits for a reasonable answer. Just gasps at the thought of dialing and hearing something other than a sudden disconnect.
You don't know. According to the signals you receive, you havent received any. But I try and I quake in the grips of the word.
"I'm trying"
to forget.
to remember.
these few days that made me dependent on you. In chest
(In)dependent. In thought processes that I can control.
Even now I am convinced that it is nothing but sweet words in summer air,
Still I am forgetting your face, and the way you speak. Foreign accent in your native language rolling off my tongue as I pondered the things you'd say paying at the gas station. Funny looks from the cashier
at your mumbled words in my mouth, followed by unsuppressable laughter.
Tonight, paniced breathing when I can't hear it anymore, and I dial for a taste of what I'm pulled from.