I miss your voice.
And by that, I mean, I don't remember what you sound like. And it...it doesn't feel quite right ro me. I feel like a child reaching for a toy in my toybox only to find that it's not there.
"Where is it?" I wrack my brain for answers. "I swear I left it here."
I close my eyes to try and remember when I last spoke to you, but all of a sudden, I'm watching muted memories of a face I know so well.
I used to think these memories were a burden, but now that I'm on the verge of losing one, I want nothing more but to chase it down.
This is me looking for comfort in a world of rigid and rough. Lately, I've been doing things just to avoid what's going on inside my head. My conscience is at my shoulder, and I think I miss your voice because it transports me to a time much simpler--when all you had to do was pull a string and the lullabies would start playing.
