The seduction of not moving on.

When every morning you wake, the sunlight peaking through the smallest gap in the window, the window that you stand infront of at night staring out at the lights of the city wondering if she is somewhere staring back at you.

Every morning the contemplation of the choices that you made weigh heavily on your mind, you want to call and talk but not to hear her voice but to have the comfort of the static silence remind you why it is that you shouldn’t talk anymore.

The longing that tugs at you everyday as you check to see if and when the person that haunts every thought you had has been active on the media streams that now appear to govern your everyday existence, log in, click, rinse and repeat.

The stories you concocted to help better understand something that isn’t comprehensible, the lies you tell yourself to make you believe that reality is the fiction and the fiction you created are the facts.

The comparisons with anyone that walks or talks in your vicinity, the bargaining with yourself that you can fix all the mistakes that were never made because it’s easier then trying to see what you need to fix yourself,

The seduction to never move in the hope you are rediscovered is the decay that will bring about the end of who you are, take a step, it doesn’t matter how big or small, it doesn’t even have to be a step it can be a stumble, it can be a crawl.

Move forward and I will save you, the small voice that resonates from inside of the very core of what makes me who I am is lost in the chaos and confusion of blind faith that those who walked away are heading back to save us, but as long as the voice keeps calling I know I’ll find a path again.

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