Living away from her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX-QaNzd-0Y

I call too often
to discuss the worship of overcast days,
to indulge them and not you.
It's easy, to subject you to the sickest thoughts,
because I can trust you, because we adore
each other. I demand


you tell me about your week, divert me from my trivial drivel.
Tune out the sins of my life and whistle to the tune of your joy.
Give me insight, please.


I don't call often enough
to tell you how happy I am to get through a day
without tripping up the steps to my car,
to remember my keys, have a healthy lunch and a stress-free day at work.
I need schooling for the way I have treated you.
I demand


you master the art of switching who is speaking, enabling us to talk longer for,
God, damn, shit, do I miss you, lady.

There is a toll of living away and,
believe me, I pay it.
There is an endless sting when you give up the clear and open and long-suffering space
between two old friends.
You were the family I chose.
'We don't talk about it.'