i wanna call you up right now, go over to your place, and tell the universe to fuck off for a second. this is an angry poem, i can’t find some gentleness for the life of me and neither can it find me. the world is lying bare flaunting its flaws, and i am hoping that this flame inside my chest doesn’t find its way to my memory and carve itself into an image of a love i cannot obtain.
i wanna call you up right now, march right up to your window, and flip off the gods together. you probably wouldn’t like that, so i’ll be fine with holding your hand instead as an act of revolution. i wanna knock on heaven’s door, and tell it to stop being a rip off of your eyes. i wanna rewrite the bible, with your arms as a prophet holy enough to become its own religion, and your thoughts as proof enough that it is a message straight from god.
i wanna call you up, hear you smile when i make a bad joke, and laugh the world away. i wanna call you up and cry my heart out, i keep staring at my reflection hoping to make sense out of my features when it’s not succumbing to the warmth of your hands. i keep mapping out my freckles trying to make up constellations but all i’m left with is Orion’s belt wrapped around my neck. i keep messing up my hair trying to untangle my thoughts but they end up tangling themselves into another reason for me to call you.
i wanna call you up, tell you that there is a theory called the “phantom time hypothesis”, it states that there is 300 years in the history that is almost blank. and that if it is blank, then it didn’t happen, and we’re currently in the year 1719. i wanna tell you that this is what it feels like right now, like maybe this world stopped spinning the moment your mother shook my hand the last time, that maybe the silence will unwrite your absence out of time, that maybe the warmth that takes over me at 7am is your unforeseeable presence. that maybe we never parted.
i wanna call you up, dear, and hear what you think of the universe, and of this mixtape, and of the sky. i wanna call you up, and yell at the greek gods for birthing me into this because much like Orpheus, I cant promise not to look back.