tell me a story

i love listening to your stories. my mind devours each new telling of a memory or event or interaction from your past or maybe from earlier today. the way you smile or feel when you recall the story for me makes me feel like i was there when it happened. or at least makes it easier for me to imagine i was there with you.

it’s like you make up for lost time, the time i wasn’t with you. learning about who you saw or where you ate when i was off in class or buried in my school work makes me feel like i don’t have to dislike not being around you so much. 

the sad thing is i miss you when you’re not talking to me, when i don’t see you for almost a whole day, when i only get a message or two from you. i’m becoming greedy with your attention and i shouldn’t. what you begin to want more of, the more you can be disappointed.

i hate that you have so much sway over my thoughts.

but oh, you’ve replied now. yes, please, tell me about your day.

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