6 retrouvailles

everyone you meet should tell you that i miss you.

i miss you on cloudless, autumn days when you're waiting in the train station, silently taking pictures of the sky. you've always loved the sky... the galaxies, the stars, the comets and the planets surrounding our existence. i've always been your moon and you've always been the sun of my eyes... we'll forever keep bleeding into one another, marking the beginnings and the ends of nights and days.

you're still taking pictures of the sky. what's the best yet the worst of it all? you might have a clue— you might be thinking about me too, as my arms are fading into the depths of the sun, crucially trying to melt into yours.

i miss you entirely, terribly, shamelessly, no doubt. i had to admit it to myself first. doubts never linger on my troubled mind.

the air around me is sucked with so much force, so loudly, i can actually feel it trailing the back of my neck as you try to breathe. i can't really contain myself, my dearest, and i think there's no use in doing that now: now was then, now will turn into later, but for me now stands still. through all eternity i'm touching the tip of your nose, while i'm enjoying the muffled words and the spilled ink dripping from your heart. i'm wishing that they could finally turn into transparentized, sheer raindrops, because you've always loved the rain. your words kept rolling off your tongue right onto my lips as i rested my head on your pillow, but—

i had something that was gnawing at the corners of my mind.

in these tough times humans are too afraid of commitment to anchor in, as if our bodies aren't made of water... as if dehydration is the only love they've ever known. in this case, i'd rather call humans cruel to themselves than blind, because we tend to forget the reason why we're truly alive. we're alive to learn through love. we're alive to fight our sharpest sins, but you don't seem to fully embrace the concept— you don't seem to fully understand why i'm trying so hard to pour myself into you.