Of saying goodbye.

I remember you, that day, at the airport. I kept counting the steps to you, to your face. Of whose countenace I had not behold for years; but there I was, clutching my nerves, walking to you just to say goodbye. I remember your surprise. I remember leaving you to your friends that night. And then I remember your eyes searching mine as you said thank you for coming to see me off. I remember the past coming back to choke me; of writing cryptic poems to each other, of nervous attempts to wear our hearts on our sleeves. I remember the things we left unsaid.
Then I remember you turning around and walking off and never looking back. I remember wondering if you ever would.

I remember running, that night. Looking for something I was not sure of.

In the palm of your hand

You got me like an oscilloscope reading of voices. Voices in my head, we go up and down like a rollercoaster. You got me like a turbulent plane ride on the way to nowhere and everywhere in particular. You got me like a crippled gymnast balancing on needles.

You got me.

If it’s true that we’re continuously changing, I don’t want you to miss the persons I’ve been in even one milisecond.

..and we have been reduced to making friends with a snail under the streetlight by the lake with neon echoing from the other side; resounding. Superficial life and artificial constellations hey!
(What are we chasing, really?)

The cloud looked like naked eye leukocytes trying to heal the wounds of a scratch the sky just acquired. (Gold dust was smeared instead of iodine I should think, given the flirtatious stars that winked in and out of observation)

Then we went to sleep because of our REM debts, because we are young, because we are restless.

& this morning sees my hand on my face, supporting the weight of the burden my head had decided to carry. My watch on my cheek, inches from my ear but the tick tick tick tick tick of the seconds cry like a countdown from each breath that is held as I wait for your reply on the phone.