I can hear you smile over the phone...I can detect in your sigh the type of day you are having.
But absence from you is a lunar landscape...barren and devoid of anything worth loitering over...worth hovering over...
A wasteland.
And I worry that the voices that were once strong and animated, filled with words and stories punctuated by laughs and pitch are now barely echoes...and even at times just silence...
until I hear something pronounced the way you might say a certain word...and for a moment I am captivated...a long lost signal.
It's like the way a concert hall feels when the last piano note lingers in the air just mere seconds before the applause...the sound is like oxygen, to breathe in...to fall and push hair aside...that last word you said before hanging up....
I look up at the moon at night and I wonder if it looks the same for you...or if it is hidden, obscured by clouds or trees...I look at it early in the morning, as it gets orange and I find it more beautiful than at night and it reminded me that you are like that to me...your beauty starts my day and I seek to find it on the horizon and if lucky enough to see just a glimpse the change in my day is meaningful...the mood is like a brightening horizon...
Moonless nights look back at me like I feel...just absence.
Gut punch.
Starved.
No air.
Like life on the moon.
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