Dear You


0 notes

I wrote this last year after spending the entire summer in limbo with my ex-boyfriend but still tried to keep things together between us anyway, and I guess this is the point where I truly gave up. He never knew I wrote this about him, and he still doesn’t know. So here it is. 

the crying telephone

i just don’t want to do it anymore;

play this game by myself when it’s meant for two, 

and if you don’t pick up the phone

can’t say I don’t blame you” beep.

so, what we had we lost

about as easily as you lost her number in the mess of clothes on your carpet

and funny thing it was

that you only found it

when you realized it’d been tangled up in my crumpled old t-shirt

and what you felt when you saw it—

a pang of melancholy and shiver of nostalgic regret—

can’t say i didn’t force a smile

but it certainly wasn’t easy to forget

‘cause what we held was dropped

when we lost our way back home,

when our eyes met others along the path of forgetting the past, 

of knowing what’s done is done, when we realized that forever belongs to no one

but the telephone number laying on your floor

made you believe there was still someone

and now your hands hold those of someone

someone, who just won’t hold them back as tight

who just doesn’t seem to do anything right

who burns your wrists with her cigarette flakes, 

peels your eyes like onions at night
painfully ordering them awake

who’s always a little out of reach when your arms extend 

a little out of this reality of you and her, in her own sort of pretend

you reminisced but thought you dialed her number wrong

forgot the melody to your favorite song

when in truth she sang a similar tune along her way,

though she changed her number, now she’s far away

here your new tune now purrs and stays

lingering in the frigid air, drowning  your head in a daze

where the unused telephone with her number engraved

cause both pairs of eyes to wander back to your old saudade 

what you want to say now once caused your loss of speech

and if gloomy air is any indication

she’ll never be within reach

but she’ll always be your destination

and something endless became of what was once an attempt at spontaneity

and what was once clear as day became lost in translation 

and when you speak she hears a different language

a blubbering tongue misunderstanding what once was your communication


and the dial tone crumbles your ear drum as you wait for the voice on the other end that won’t come

because home is now across the sea and your someone, she waits for you here so damn patiently,

but you tell her to wait just a little bit longer and you wonder 

‘why the hell have i allowed this feeling of sonder

to grow and pop my tiny heart 

shred it to shards and tear me apart?’

but when the kiss brushes by your ear

a ghostly air blankets you with a heavy feeling in your mending heart

a shortness of breath in acknowledgment

because the one that once was has actually come back 

and you turn and look 

into someone else’s eyes

and your hopes for her voice

have become your demise

and she can tell by that sorry look in your eyes

that she’s come too soon for you to give her a try 

with a wave at the door she whispers goodbye
and the telephone keeps ringing, almost as loud as your cry

“goodbye lasts forever, forever never dies, to die will be when I hear your voice once more, until then, the ringing will have to suffice” beep. 

(d.w.s.) 2013


we spend our lives searching for fragments of the people and things we once loved and have unintentionally lost over time, almost as easily as losing a telephone number
and sometimes we can only find what we’re really looking for when we call that old friend we once had and promised forever and beyond to 

but inevitably people change and grow apart and move away and although forever may have once been the plan, and although there’s not been a change of heart

numbers change with time as feelings do 

and sometimes we can’t reach that forever we once clung to 

and although there may never be such ease in moving on and going forward with life

forgetting is impossible, but if you can’t let go, it has the power to ruin your life 

please don’t absorb too much of the past in your present and future

what once was there will always remain, and although we all grow and change, a part of us will wait forever by our old telephone, hoping to hear a voice instead of just the ring

0 notes

i’m thinking of uploading letters via photographs and scanning without releasing - or do you think the releasings are important?
I want to give each letter the coverage it deserves instead of them waiting in a shoebox for me to think of releasing ideas. love x - or do any of you lovelies have releasing ideas?

Filed under dearyou questions