I have built a wall so thick, women envy and men don’t understand. No one gets in, and I don’t get hurt. It has never been broken down and I like it that way. I can “love” you from a distance and when all is said and done I’m still protected. So when you hurt, I don’t. When you wonder what I’m doing, you’re far from my mind. When you cry, I laugh. When you call, I watch it go to voicemail. I wonder if you’ll leave a message, but even if you did I still wouldn’t call you back.
You’ve flanked my wall.
How the hell did you flank my wall? Why am I wondering what you doing, now? Why am I crying, now? Why do I replay that damn video on my phone just to see your goofy nose and hear you make that goofy voice? You remember one from Easter? I’m laughing in the background—the happy laugh-- that kills me. Why do those details of intimate moments flood my mind right before I close my eyes at night? I see you everywhere we used to be and wonder where you are now. I miss your voice, your gentle touch, your lips. I miss the way you squeeze me tight in the middle of a hug. It’s been so long, so why now? Why am I the one missing you and you have a wall so thick?