STATIC GLOW

 

Waking in the Static Glow  

I wander the 24-hour diner,

anointed by the hum of neon signs.

I found salvation in the jukebox glow,

its vinyl hymns whispering truths.

Every late-night radio tune

suddenly knows my name,

and if art mirrors life,

life’s just a rerun on a cracked screen.  

You’ve been gone three weeks,

three weeks and a fading echo.

The world’s edges have softened,

blurred in ways I can’t unsee.  

I used to be untouchable,

a comet streaking through the dark,

immune to my own gravity.

You were a doorway I tripped through,

a threshold I didn’t mean to cross.

Now look at me—

just another shadow in the crowd.  

If I wore my old bravado,

would you sit across from me at dawn?

If I spun illusions with sleight of hand,

could you still pick me from the haze?

If I stood raw and unraveling

in the rain outside your door,

would you flick on the porch light,

see the wreck I’ve become,

and name me—

the one who broke my orbit,

who left me earthbound?  

I used to be untouchable,

a comet burning its own path,

safe from my own collapse.

You were a doorway I fell through,

and now I’m here—

just another shadow in the crowd.  

You’ve been gone three weeks,

three weeks and a hollow ache.

I’m not who I was,

rewritten in a stranger’s hand.

Tell me what you saw in me—

not the fire, not the fearlessness.

I’m at your mercy now,

and this fragility is a foreign tongue.  

I used to be my own savior,

diving to catch my own fall.

You were a doorway I stumbled into,

and now I’m here—

not just like the rest,

but less than I ever was.