The Dinner Getting Cold While We Wait

The Dinner Getting Cold While We Wait


A test of will is an online green.


Seeing your name lit up and having you so close and so far at once lights me up and over.


I don't know if you want me anymore.  I'm waiting for you come to me.  I've made plenty of moves and you've taken them kindly- but I've never seen you shuffle my way once.


It's my birthday soon and I wonder if you'll make a move then.  If I'll feel a foot slide beneath the table and tap my own.  Our own secret handshake.  Our own secret time.


People have told me to prepare for if you don't contact me.  To not be hurt.  But I will be.  And I've said it. And they know they can't say anything to change it.  And they don't.  You know how my mind and feelings get made up and stick.


But I'm leaving you there.  Green online light on and all.  I know I could click and send.  But then why would you feel the need to come when I come so easy?  Or are you waiting for me because you're testing your own will?  Is it pride?  Are you testing mine?  Or am I making up stories because my chest aches all the time and aches further still each time I wonder what wonderful day you're having now.


There is no test.  No will.  Because I'm kissing air and invisible versions of you.  One of them is bound to be real and satisfy one of these nights.


But till then I guess I'll wait for the hard tip of your toe to touch mine.  As we sit across from each other online.  Staring at bright green glows that invite.  But our wills and pride that say wait and hold tight- because perhaps we need space, to find and relate, but I think we should just be and open ourselves to see that starving ourselves just makes dinner cold.


-Matthew Koutzun