And I wonder if you see my name on your phone and your heart breaks a little. If you receive my phone call and you choose not to answer because you know my voice might make you sad. If the idea of that exchange might break the glass house you’ve built around your soul. I wonder if you talk to the moon with a glass of whisky when you can’t sleep. Or if you play my favorite song on the way to work without meaning to. I wonder if you have to quiet the fire in your chest every night before you fall asleep, and if you’ve named the flames after me.
Because mine breaks a little. I choose not to answer sometimes. I’ve got a glass house. And I talk to the moon too. My fires are named after you and for fuck sake I’m running out of ways to say that I miss you.