I

I want

I want your voice to reach my ears.

I want your laugh.

I want to see your face.

For the first time.

I want to see how tall you are, not in the old photos.

The real you.

I want to hear your story.

I want YOU to tell me your story.

I want you to tell me anything, say anything.

I want to see your callused hands.

I want to see your nose, the one I might have.

I want to see the yellow undertone of the pale yet tan skin we share.

I want to hear your favorite song,

Maybe if it wasn’t the one everyone tells me.

You like acting?

Me too.

Is it because you happened to like it?

Or is it because you liked it?

The Beatles?

You know them?

And you played the guitar?

You’re cool. I tried to play it once.

Your favorite song by them is Michelle, right?

Right?

My favorite song is Michelle too.

Because you like it.

I heard you had the same hair colour as mine.

The ever-so-close-to-black brown.

I hope I don’t have that brown because of my father,

But because of you.

I want to see you.

For the first time.

I want to hear you.

For the first time.

I want to talk to you.

For the first time.

I want to meet you.

For the first time.

And I might become desperate,

And I might become insane,

And maybe I would dig you up from your grave.

But even that wouldn’t be possible.

Because you’re just too far away from me.