‘Would you come and see me?’

Would you come and see me?

No, no you wouldn’t. Not during lockdown and not ever.

Because you don’t feel the way I do, which is deeply disappointing for me because the way I feel is:

Every time I look out my window, I see the whole world walk by, and not one of those people is you.

And I think about you every night and talk to running water thinking it’ll find its way to you like you are sea level.

And when this all started (or maybe before) I felt like a caged bird. No, no not a bird. A fucking rabid, hungry, hell-bent wolverine. 

And now that it’s better, it’s still not better because nothing’s changed.

And so I can’t help sending out one last little question in my sad, faltering voice. It’s the least I can do for someone I thought might change my world, and when my one tiny hope has been shattered to prickly shards from your total, unwavering indifference.

Was that appropriate? No. Not for anyone but me. I’m all alone in my world of heartbreak.

Why would I think that was anything to say to you when I haven’t heard a peep from you, not a word. Nothing civil and composed the way you might expect someone trying to manufacture distance. Nothing, just nothing. Simply a dull, impenetrable fuzz.

It is shameful, so now all I can say is nothing in return. But what I want to say is sorry for the trouble. Just sorry.