Aesthetic

ALBERT BIERSTADT: SUNRISE ON THE MATTERHORN

Mr. Campbell was kind enough

to give me the weekend off.

To my surprise

when I came home on Friday,

I slept the whole day through.

Arriving Saturday,

I woke up earlier than the sun.

Around five in the morning,

I checked my cellphone

like always.

Oh-no.

Out of all days,

she decides to call now.

For an hour,

I replayed her voicemails

like someone replays

their favorite song.

Over and over,

focusing on the diction.

I cried myself almost every night.

As much as it pains me

to see that beautiful artwork

to be slowly chipping paint,

it relieved my pessimistic thoughts

of her not loving me back.

If she cried,

it was just the love

she couldn't contain.

However,

she's not quite sure

I feel the same.

If you found some one else-

She could take a trip

around the world,

fly to the moon,

come back and sail

the magical oceans

before I'd find someone else.

She marked my heart

and no matter how hard

I'd try to wash her name off,

it always stayed in its place

like a tattoo.

Calling Lydia...

Voicemail,

but not surprised

since it's six a.m.

Lydia first of all,

Good morning, beautiful.

Second of all,

those voicemails

you left me-

I don't know

where to start.

Let me tell you though:

Currently I have a front-row seat

to the sunrise in Manhattan,

however, to me

it's a symbolism

of your voice

finally getting back to me.

See you on Sunday.

I'll make sure to bring Anise Sage flowers

especially for you;

I would never choose someone else

over you.

Since you didn't say it,

I'll just shorten it just in case.

I- letter L- you, Lydia.

It would be embarrassing

if you don't love me back,

so that's why I shortened it.

If you don't,

we can pretend it says something

that starts with the letter L:

like, lust, or maybe lesbians.

I know how much you love that movie

about the guy fighting all those ex's.

If you do,

then see you soon.