Slumber
1/1
Sometimes I can almost hear your soft footsteps on the floor, dreary eyes unfocused in the night. I never thought I could miss you because I never thought you could drift so easily through my fingertips, like the wind though the spaces between a tree’s leaves. But you’re so far from me, and it’s raining and I miss you. Sometimes my hands shake for your warmth to enclose them, but I try to keep my mind off it. If you would just speak to me a few words, I think I could be okay, but you’re so close and so far. I long to find your smiling face no longer a mirage.
I remember your soft spoken tongue and your symphony of words in my ear as I watched the rain tap quietly on the window pane. The static between us seemed to bring us closer, desperation for contact carried on the wind's of a New England winter. I remember that laugh of yours, like liquid gold laced with comfort, such a serene sound. The awkward fumbles of our conversations were always lost in the late nights and weary eyes. You and I were impossibly entangled, each word that passed between us a vine.
But the vines, they withered. The words trickled away until there was just your breath, still magical n every way, then nothing. You were the roots beneath me, but the wind ripped us apart and blew me away. I still hear your laugh in the winds when the timing is right, and I sometimes like to speak to you in my mind, but nothing could substitute the heavenly orchestra of your words in my ears.
Each tick of the clock feels wrong, each drop of rain is concentrated sorrow, and the quiet after the storm is worse than that before. I often watch the waves crash against the rocks, but it's no replacement for your ocean eyes. I lay myself to sleep at night, the absence of you chilling my bones. I wrap my arms around static and these sheets are always cold. I reach out and feel nothing, just the brisk winter air stinging my skin. And while you remain insight, you are so far.
So very, very far.
I remember your soft spoken tongue and your symphony of words in my ear as I watched the rain tap quietly on the window pane. The static between us seemed to bring us closer, desperation for contact carried on the wind's of a New England winter. I remember that laugh of yours, like liquid gold laced with comfort, such a serene sound. The awkward fumbles of our conversations were always lost in the late nights and weary eyes. You and I were impossibly entangled, each word that passed between us a vine.
But the vines, they withered. The words trickled away until there was just your breath, still magical n every way, then nothing. You were the roots beneath me, but the wind ripped us apart and blew me away. I still hear your laugh in the winds when the timing is right, and I sometimes like to speak to you in my mind, but nothing could substitute the heavenly orchestra of your words in my ears.
Each tick of the clock feels wrong, each drop of rain is concentrated sorrow, and the quiet after the storm is worse than that before. I often watch the waves crash against the rocks, but it's no replacement for your ocean eyes. I lay myself to sleep at night, the absence of you chilling my bones. I wrap my arms around static and these sheets are always cold. I reach out and feel nothing, just the brisk winter air stinging my skin. And while you remain insight, you are so far.
So very, very far.