Dew sparkles, glimmering in the morning chill. Tears holding on. Lost as the sun rises.
We were always on the edge. Never quite falling. That freedom of flying just out of reach. The time we didn’t but almost did, and again, and again. Time spent wasting, time with you. They said we would. They said we did. But we were almost something. Just an almost.
Beating in, out. Stomach rising. To that thud, that drum. Vibrating. Moving. Breaking. Beaming. You.
Envelopes. Paper. Painted with letters, woven with words. I sit. Scissors in hand. Feel their weight. The solid steel. Lift the first letter from the pile. Place the blades gently around it. Slowly squeeze the handles. Smile at the satisfying snip and slice of cutting paper. That crisp crunch of the blades biting. A metal smile hiding teeth within.
Night walking. Head hazy. The streets warped like an Escher picture. Yet my routefinder kicks in. My feet walk a path they’ve walked too many times before.
Third lamppost on the left, take the snicket Dark and narrow I snag on brambles falling free, skin torn, stinging. Head for the light, the other side. Stumble on loose paving stones down the steps to arrive on your street.
Quiet. Calm. Unchanged.
I sit on the pavement. Hug my knees tight. Here again.
Climb the stairs, close the door. Think no more about things. That big pile of things waiting. It can wait. Slip into time. Time before. Just you, your room. Music on, lights low. Lay on the bed. Stare at the ceiling. That blank space. Listen. Breathe. Hypnotise. Hibernate.
In the depths of night, in the thick of silence, it cuts through the window. Slicing through the blinds. A sharp smile dancing on the walls. I run my fingers through the light. Grasp it in my hands. For a moment I’m not alone. I hold it in my hands and my heart lifts, my mind cools. Night after night. I wait for that smile.
Hanging from a thread. Dancing in the breeze. Your silver wings left behind. Detatched. Dismissed. Alone without purpose.
Our home. Our haven. In the darkness I reach for you. Into the unfamiliar cold. Your absence staggering. Breath stealing. A knock out still.
paper dreams falling
captured in a story, I
slowly turn the page