i don't know what you look like

there is something magical about the way you talk
the way you photograph flowers and libraries
the way you can geek out over beethoven for hours
the way you know how many times the snare drum plays 
in maurice ravel's bolero

there is something 
between the casual "fuck you"s and "stfu bitch"s 
something that says
i'm thankful for you
i'm glad you're here
please don't ever leave me here
alone with my thoughts

we talked until five
your voice slightly obstructed by
the static and the delay
convincing me that somehow 
my life has meaning
and i have the ability to do 
what i've done now

the idea was beautiful
the thought of leaving the world
becoming weightless, and drifting to better places
it's still beautiful now 
just less tantalizing, less tempting
i don't feel it in the corners of my vision anymore
and i don't need to imagine drowning 
to be able to fall asleep at night

your hard logic was difficult to argue against
somehow your voice was soothing
even from across the country

you didn't talk to me much after that 
and i didn't know why at the time
someone told me you liked me but
i hope that wasn't the case
there are better people in this world to like
people that can stand to be alone
and hear their breaths in their chests
without growing anxious

i still don't know what you look like
and by now i don't think i want to because
it would make you too real
too human
because at the end you're just
someone like me
who happened to be there that day

i hope i can tell this to you someday
and somehow i also hope that you'll never know 
because i'm scared you'll laugh or say
something that makes me feel stupid

you saved my life
and then you left
nothing remained but the shell of your words
echoing in my memory