Smoke Filled

Devilish Pink Giraffes

I was high, so high, that I couldn't stop thinking of him.

It felt as if I was slipping in and out of reality, I could almost feel him there, like he was holding my hand. I could smell him, his clothes. I loved his scent like people love the smell of rain in the dirt. I smelled that in the air.

I closed my eyes and for once it didn't hurt when I thought if him. I felt warmth. I was always so cold, my fingers, my hands, my toes and feet. Even wearing a big sweatshirt everyday didn't help the fact that I was freezing. That's why it felt so good to be warm. Even though it was logically just the weed.

He left me not even a week ago. I loved him. I used to be so sure that he loved me too.

That night, I layed on my floor, feeling him there. I didn't cry, I wasn't upset, I was just there. The one thing bothering me was I just couldn't hear him, and that was something I had wanted for a long time. So I grabbed my phone and I dialed his number. In the back of my mind I knew it wasn't right to do that, but I did it anyways. It rang 8 times, "Hello" I heard his deep voice say again, after the longest time.

"Hey, I just called be-"

"Sorry I can't answer the phone right now, I'll call you as soon as I get the chance" I heard him from the prerecorded voicemail. A couple seconds later I heard the beep and I stayed silent and hung up. His voice was playing over and over in my mind. I fell asleep to it and the warm feeling of him beside me, even if he wasn't.