| 34. SECOND GLANCES |
| So here I am again, sitting in this cavern of a room in the dark on a sad fall afternoon. I saw you again last night in a dream, tugging at the corner of discretion, hinting at a nightmare. Motivation is so hidden, such a diamond in the rough. I breathed for you every breath, every beat since high school. Yet still I'm cursed. Still you flirt with disaster in my thoughts, embracing dullness like it's a one-night stand lasting forever. So here am I, an empty shell of empty hopes for empty dreams, an empty face, an empty taste, and empty space next to "what-if." I'm like a child, forsaking smalltown romance, heading straight into the blazing lights of an empty big city. Every sun and every moon awakens destitude in me as I stare at a sea glimmering with what could be. The waters look forgiving, but deep beneath lurks impropriety, loosening my heart, tempting my thirst, dangling my courage from a string. Every time I put my socks on and get cold feet, I'll think a simple thought. I'll wish a simple dream. Every time I order coffee, I'll imagine you next to me. I'll hope for better days. I'll dream your smile. So here am I, a frame of built truths, a frame of future non-peril; a game of habits, a game of chasing, a game of lame cheap thrills. I'm like a failure, forsaking safety from the throbbing pain to pursue nothing in the bright lights of hoping once again. Every shimmer of a mirror reflecting my glum despair, you'll be there, smiling back, always beautiful and fair. The reflection's tempting to reach into for a second glance, loosening my heart before remembering that my courage has no hands. |