One moment, he unlocked the door. She stood staring as a moon flew by. A cold blue ghost born from another sun. A galaxy far away. Beckoning, days long and steep. The softness fades into a heavy burden. Hidden behind closed doors, years and years of nothing. But now, we stop and hurt those memories. If I can’t have you no one can. The knob turns, it doesn’t even matter. Anymore, who comes and goes. But there is a floor at the bottom of this starless moment.
We were friendless, we were searching. Born on an island and returning. All alone, not alone. Moving backwards toward the sky. Someone is missing, something is missing. Nothing is ever gone. I walk down a slow path moving faster. I move slowly as the fast sky travels downward, into me. We were put here, left with each other. A world built on ashes. An earth trapped within, these broken hearts. Don’t we miss her, this earth here, how do we find him.
They’re somewhere inside, the moment passes again and again…
There is the burning the raining the sound of wind. He sits with his back to me, facing the fire. Removed from exposure and hidden from rain. Quietly I write it all down. The secrets that float in the room, creak under the floor, beg to be worshipped. Nobody sees you but me, the night is long and sterile. The fire is dull and bored, with him as he fumes, smoke rises- covering thoughts with more thoughts. Feelings, hunt these feelings, burn these feelings, ignore these feelings. She is, however on the outside as a problem to be remedied. An off putting voice in my head. Colder than ice is the shadow that follows. Never moving, who cares if I go. There isn’t a picture I won’t inhabit. Not a dream I won’t crush. Tonight is a tunnel, tomorrow is a bridge. This moment is a word that describes the missing destination. He left as the fire died. I remained because I’m me. Turning shadows into words and fire into black. Remedy.
If I go in that room. If I summon the muse. If I write all her words. If I keep myself beautiful. Will another day cease to pass, if we pretend our feelings haven’t changed. If we imagine how she might have once been, if we conjure a memory of bright lips. Might we love again, ourselves from more beautiful days. Like the beginning of spring, blossoms. Plenty of time to be sad and romantic about death and love that fails. But now, here we are locked in each other’s rooms. Who can know the lonely imagination that wanders up and down legs and moments trying, trying to be touched. Another way than the despondent curl of bodies. A soft, dreamy way…like we are never dying. We are flowers beneath the sun. Warm and supple, pure and open to time. But I know it’s not true, its not me. I am collapsible and impenetrable. I am fluid and captivating. The afternoon has come. This would be the melancholy of the youthful muse who pretends that she is ageless. Immortal, we have seen noon and shuddered at our failure. The arrival was not as it seemed. He did not bring you new flowers. You cannot ask for what has gone. The room is quiet and late. I listen for abandoned memories. I try to find beauty in my loss. We all lose. My eyes, won’t stop watching the corpse. Lonely and quiet. Remember, don’t touch the seed. You’re heading out in the morning for far away lands. Give him space to roam. You aren’t even heard when you wail young tender cloud. You are just his imagination and his yearning. You are a fading sound in the twilight of a new less broken love. When he stoops and she aches. Pages torn from the year before. Nothing will ever replace your words. Nobody will ever walk toward me again. With a promise of a hidden garden where my frail beauty holds his soul enchanted. Beneath moonlight and ever passing skies of silver…I look back inside at what’s gone. And the pain makes all the galaxies disappear like there was ever only this dim lit corner. Seeping fantasy through my veins. Little flower quietly dying, just a moment and I’m gone.
wind in the white space