Red is my heart
Sometimes I feel like one of those women, standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for their husbands to come back from sea.
My heart still longs in hope of your return, and I can't tell it to stop.
It feels like no time has passed. Like you are just at your place, and I could pick up the phone to call you.
I thought about calling once, but I was afraid that someone might pick up. I was afraid that your number had been reallocated, and I wouldn't know what to say to the person on the other end. I was also worried that I would hear some strange sounds on the line, like ghost you was trying to answer.
My brain goes to some weird places.
Today marks our anniversary, or Anooversary; as you used to call it.
I've been watching Poldark, which Is jammed full of women, standing of the edge of cliffs, longing for their loves. The celtic songs speak to me. They sound like what my heart would sound like if it were an instrument. Maybe I'll write my own one day.
But for now, I borrowed one.