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Hypobole

 

I had a dream about you last night.

Your jaw, specifically, and the way your earring swings back and forth in front of it when you turn your head and talk.

There was laughter in your words, and movement in the direction you were looking, but I just kept staring at your jaw.

I wanted to reach out and touch it with my fingertips, but hesitated.

Or maybe I couldn’t. Wasn’t able.

I think you were sitting across a table.

If I had, and you’d have turned toward me, what would you have called me?

You used to call me so many things, and none of them my name.

So much better than my name.

Don’t… do not… say my name.

Your names for me were so much better. Carried so much more love in almost one year than the one I’ve carried for thirty-one.

I’m not sure what you’d have called me, because I didn’t, or couldn’t, reach out and touch you.

I only watched your jaw

and the earring swinging in front of it while you spoke.

and without speaking, I awoke.

hypo

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