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Counting Backwards
On the second day of your absence,
 I find my thumbnails in the quick;
 my index finger twitching towards 
 the phone. The weight of silence suffocating me; my arm flinches, returning back to hang at my side. I am stronger than a mere thought.
 
 I've been curled up in this ball for sometime now; afraid a single movement will knock off the balance of my yin and yang (a.k.a.: my will-power). 
 
 With the distraction of passing seconds, the weight eases; gradually lifting. Until I look down and see the spaces in between my fingers; empty. 
 
 Reciting the chemical symbols on the table of elements to myself will no longer suffice.
 
 I roll over and hit the big red button in my head; rewind or self- destruct. Either way I have a 100/100 chance of agony.
 
 Reliving every moment,
 Memories hanging around like Christmas lights in January,
 Pretending to forget 
 what's been carved into my eyelids, 
 Avoiding the unavoidable;
 Attempting the impossible?
 
 I dial your number.
 555-555-0559 
 My fingers know it faster than my brain.
 I do not cover the receiver this time.
 I do not prevent your untainted ears from hearing what you caused.
 I do not hide this burden I have been carrying around.
 I know this is your fault.
 So
 I wait for that casual, ever familiar:
 "Hey"
 Smirk at the irony,
 and let you hear the soft crackling of my heart while it breaks.

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