Stop Missing Me

She twists and turns and recalls a sentence which has become true once again.

He's ruined midnights for her.

He's ruined nights for her.

The phone that is set to vibrate for him, the phone that never rings. The phone she wakes up to every hour to check because her desire for it to ring is so strong she starts to imagine hearing it ring. Her body is taut as wire, her mind buzzing with fatigue. She never wants to go through this again. So she sets up a fake boundary to stay away from him, just so she knows that when the real boundary appears, she is able to do it for real.

And it's harder than she imagined but easier than she thought it would be.


The phone, it finally vibrates for her. It flashes with envelopes and calls, and his name calls to her in silence, blinking urgently, tentatively, persuasively.

She lets it ring and ring. But she leans her head against the boundary and knows it will be so much harder once it really happens.


She can love him.
But she also can not love him.


And it will hurt less. (Which way?)