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.