You know when you're not really sure who/what you're writing about, it's kinda just a big mixing pot of everything? Yeah, that.
I've
started craving the time before I go to sleep- when it's all quiet, and
calm, and it's me and no-one else. Then, anything can happen. I can
hold the thought of you, uninterrupted, close to me, the same way I
clutch one of the many stuffed toys, when I'm feeling lonely. Feeling
lonely and thinking of you seem to correlate, which sounds like it
should be a bad thing. Instead, it's almost pleasing. Rather lonely,
than wrong. Rather lonely, than the million worse things I could be.
Rather lonely, and holding tight to the thought of you smile. I think of
it all, every tiny piece of you that I can, creating a mosiac of the
fractured memories, piece by piece by piece. Maybe, if I can build it up
enough, I can make it real. I always fall asleep before I'm finished,
though. It's almost a shame, to sleep, as exhausted as I am. It's wasted
time, when I could be thinking of you. I hope for your voice in my
dreams, but to no avail. Instead, I must make do with the fractured
moments I receive, waking up to think momentarily of your voice, pulling
myself a little tighter in, a comma around that same stuffed toy.
Moments of you, then back to sleep- before waking, finally, to the day,
and the thought of more snatched moments.