Sitting on my bed today I re-stuck the handcrafted robot sticker on the headboard over and over, running my hand from the bottom to smooth the detachment back to being plastered above my pillows. I kept thinking of you, all the little notes and scribbles I would find in the back of notebooks or on mysterious scraps of paper. I miss that.
Truth is, I need you. You're the only person that's kept me in the right place. You keep re-sticking me to the place I belong, even when I hang precariously half-pasted, ready to fall and be crumpled at any second. You always smooth me back out, make me sturdy again.
So, there I sat with a blanket or two on my head, wrapped around me. My whole body shaking with cold chills and the occasional dry cough. You're like a bowl of soup. A much-needed remedy, but far away. A magical fantastical cure just out of reach.
Sometimes I really wish I would've gotten my license.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment