wish you were here

at this point, i don’t know if i’m simply spouting out pink floyd titles in the air,
or speaking to ghosts faded into the walls.

the words sour in my mouth, repeated one too many times,
leaving a bitter aftertaste, not unlike
the way you left a world you didn’t want to call home anymore.

colors don’t paint as vibrant as they did years ago—
do you remember the endless blue of the skies,
the reds of the bricks, the greens of the landscape?
we could pass hours upon hours
trying to count every hue and shade; instead,

we spent hours daydreaming. lulled by the summer haze
(but you didn’t love the way the sun wrapped its warmth around your freckled skin).
we spent hours breathing. sharing the same air
(but you didn’t love the way your lungs knew how to inflatedeflateinflatedeflate).
we spent hours running. shoes hitting the track, constant like strums
(but you knew what you were running from, and you didn’t think you could outpace it).

it’s been months. please wake up.