studying in the small hours of the morning when it is, quiet, soundless silence of the room, a bubble in which i reside with a book under a table lamp, highlighter at hand, trying to ignore the blinks of my screen. it is in these quiet hours that i find, i miss you. now that the ruckus of the day has been left to hang with the sun, in some suspended other daytime, elsewhere, elsewhere where you are. elsewhere which isn't here, that you really aren't here with me, despite how convincing modern day technology can be. that you and i have become no more than a two dimensional movement on a screen. add that to your almost complete inability to just tell me quite simply, that perhaps you actually do miss me, and my complete inability to take into account the number of hours we spend each day just staring at the blinking screen, and suddenly, quite suddenly our love has bled to monochrome.
well then, my monochrome love, a poem maybe to return this dull grey monotony to whence it came?
