Numerical Paradox

by HelluvaGirl

Like every other time I’ve said I would never, I often feel I’m the one who wants you more.

As soon as I withdraw, step back, go away, I almost expect us to move on with our lives because the circumstances overall seem to brilliantly conspire against us. With others, as little as a pause is enough. Or distance. Or my words that can come across as insensitive/provocative/annoying/unnecessary.

But then after a pause you look for me. You make ways to reach me when there are few left. You find me. You say you miss me.

And then I think about numbers. I’ve always sucked at Maths and so no wonder I might have got it all wrong this time, too. I’d think how I resented the mere idea of being the Second One. But the longer I count…

I am the one you long for when you write, when you are alone under your Moon, when you joke I am your muse, when you have daydreams of escape, when you do your plane-spotting, when you crave for the unconditional.

The Second One?.. I wouldn’t change places. Not in a thousand years.