I’m Jealous Of The Light That Touches You

Anatol Lem

It’s a damn shame that I have to stop looking at you. I like us like this, our bodies outlined like the furniture in soft blue television light. It’s not a sad color, that always how people associate it, this blue is a happy shade. The same shade that covers my father’s face when he falls asleep on the couch, the same shade that makes me feel safe, protected. Sure, the stars are romantic and long car rides are the magic that sparks a different kind of conversation but I love this couch and I love looking at you flooded in an outline of blue.

I like when you’re right here, I cannot love it. I want to, but it is too rare to be loved plainly and complete love cannot exist without boring, plain Jane love. You’ll leave again soon, it’s not your fault, and it will make me like this moment but hate you. Sometimes, I can’t differentiate between feeling hate and longing, everything gets blurred. You talk about your life, we catch up and I don’t want to tell you how lost I am but I think you know. You make fun of my English major, we both laugh. I am a cliché and I know that. I tell you I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t even know what I am doing back here with you, I don’t even know why I am here but then you kiss me. It’s a clichéd kiss but something about it feels right too, maybe it’s just familiar.

We share a glass of water like it’s something we’ve always done. You hand it over to me, I don’t even have to ask, if water could taste sweet, this glass would be lemonade. Suddenly, I am scared that you forgot about me on the walk to the kitchen, you seem to forget about me a lot. You kiss me again, it’s late and I can’t tell if you want me to stay but I know it’s better if I go. I kiss you and leave, I make it look easy walking down your driveway but my feet hurt.

On my drive home, streaks of street light curve their way through my car windows. I am left in periodic moments of blackness then my windshield is illuminated by orange light again. With each gust of light that flies by from the street lights hanging over head, I can hear the seconds ticking away. I swear I can hear life moving, in this darkness light is like the dashes on a clock. Orange and yellow light trickle in and I can feel the seconds pushing us farther and farther apart, I swear I can hear them ticking by. Time and light move me further away from you and I’m only wishing that the light was blue. I’m envious of any light that has that privilege of falling over you. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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