i reach my hands out to the ceiling

trying to grasp onto your body

but you’re not there.

it’s the middle of the night,

i’m haunted by your shadow.

everywhere i turn,

you are there,

in my dreams, in my room, in the kitchen

then when i look in the mirror,

i’m looking into the face of a liar.

a liar because the face staring back is a mask

used to deceive others,

tell them she’s happy, this feels right, this feels secure.

but she doesn’t want him,

she wants her

her, the girl that sits across from her,

her eyes directed towards her book,

never looking in my direction,

too scared to initiate, too scared to face the truth.

and i’m trying

i try, i try, try

i reach out, find any excuse to talk

she avoids my words,

my words so full of love ready to give her

love that i’ll enclose into her hand,

ready to extract on days filled with blue.

but right now she’s out of reach

not even close enough to look at

just a figment of my imagination, a character in my daydream,

one i visit late at night

when the truth haunts me and i can no longer run,

when i’m stuck in my own thoughts and my own desire, my own stupid heart, and when she’s so far out of reach.