BB Grey–musings

Fill in the blank-

Seven days gone and the distance keeps growing. That bridge I talked about? Just words now. Asked you to stay put but you’re deaf to that too.

Friday night. Everyone’s out getting hammered, celebrating their prison break from the work week. Me? I’m sitting here trying not to count the minutes you’re gone. Damn, that sounds weak. But I’m not weak. Just lost in this fog where I can’t tell what we are anymore.

Used to be simple. You were the center and everything moved around that. But you’re gone so now work’s taken over and you don’t fit anywhere in that picture. When you do show up, it’s like a ghost – barely there, adding to the distance.

I’m just another name in your black book now. Like those restaurants you double-book on Friday nights, knowing damn well you won’t show. Empty table sitting there, getting older, while some other poor bastard could’ve had it. That’s me – the forgotten reservation, collecting dust.

Funny thing is, you’ll get mad when I say this. You’ll spit fire about how you’d never do that to a restaurant. And like a fool, I’ll start apologizing. But you’re the one who should be sorry.

Tried playing your game. Made my own reservations I never planned to keep. Thought it would feel good, like revenge. It didn’t. Just made me feel dirty. Guilty. What a joke.

Friday night. City’s alive with people making plans, living life. And here I am, writing this letter like some pathetic drunk, doing nothing but thinking about you.

What a waste…