20120801 The things you say part 14

The things you say part 14

It is as though my eyes are closed. I am travelling and seeing nothing. It is as though I have been drugged, silenced. I am present and absent all at once. Going through a motion, acting on clockwork, on memory. One foot, another. One foot, another. I am leaving you behind. You are not going to where I will now be. You will be there, where I was, and I will be here. I am mournful at my lack of you. My wanting you. The ache of your absence. The ache of absence. The missing of those moments. Missing you and our moments. My knowledge of our connectedness. How we could use our time well, in talk, as a mirror. You of me me of you. Us.

I am moving at speed in a different direction. I have heard nothing. Nothing. The words I so wanted, the sign I so wanted unforthcoming. Not here.

I am travelling at some speed. Eyes open, light entering, thoughts tumbling, weight hung heart.

I press my face to the window and watch as bricks fall into one another, cars back to back pound the road. Inches from each other. Seconds from each other.

People blur into people, mass into one.

Now we are so high, soaring miles above sea level. The water stretches endlessly left and then right. Endless.

Steel floats.

In a rush helium heart yanked upward, I see green.  Green. When did you last see such expanses of green and grey green and pea green and dust yellow. Dark green and sea green and emerald green and mustard yellow.

I choke on my breath.

Gasp on air.

I am astounded to find I can breathe. I can breathe.

We pound on.  Hammer on.

No word from you, yet your traces are here, all around me. I can breathe and know you have been near.  It is enough. Traces of you. Almost enough.