Don’t stare at the page.
If you dare steal one look, it will all disappear and prove to be a dream.
So don’t look up, just like Don’t Look Down, or you’ll fall,
You’ll realize that there are no words left, that you’ve run out because really,
You’re just not a very interesting sort of person.
Never made anything useful, or said anything memorable,
Or done something that no one else in the entire world could do
Like it was never done before.
You’re left with an empty, gnawing sensation.
It whispers that you’re alone.
That you’re one of the lonely, not one of the loved.
Up before dawn only because you haven’t yet gone to bed.
Is there a point to this stop-time?
This dull life,
This endless waiting around for someone to grab your hand,
To take you on an adventure so you’ll finally have something to say?
Not everyone has a story.
Then again,
Maybe you’ve done something special.
Maybe, someone thinks you’re special.
I don’t have anything to say.
I don’t have anything to say at all, except that I do,
Except that everyone does,
All of us, the people up before dawn when no one else is.
We just want to be heard:
A cry in the dark, a sigh in the void.
Its not like there’s anyone around to hear it.
We’re just composing sonnets to ourselves,
Spilling our soul all over our keyboards,
Wailing to an empty room.
So maybe I’m just like you. Maybe I’m not.
I think we all want to be noticed.
For someone to stop, and look at us from across the room and say
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
You have been missed.
And in your absence, everything was a little hushed. Not as loud.
I felt cold on one side because that’s where you usually stand.
A sudden rush of panic filled me when I realized I couldn’t see you,
Where did you go?
What if my phone number washes off of your hand in the rain and you never call?
If I never see you again, what will become of me then?
What will I do without your voice?
Whispering softly in my ear because you think it’s sexy (so do I).
They’re groundless fears.
You’re here, you’re mine,
And my phone number was never in danger of washing off in the rain.
We walk out together, side-by-side.
The rest of the revelers we leave to their fun.
You’re holding my hand, our fingers tightly entwined.
And it’s soft and warm,
Not too sweaty and not too tight.
It feels like a hug, like a caress, like the beginning of summer.
I want to wrap myself up in you.
Surround my senses with your presence
And erase the barriers between us.
But like all good nights, this one has to end.
You turn to me and say
“Good night, I love you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
And then I wake up.
