Empyrean

I'm trying to write you down but the words won't come out. A few lines of letters combined and we think we'll be immortalized forever. That's not how this works, but I don't know how this works. I don't know how any of it works. The truth is I'm trying to figure it out. Figure out what is truth. You keep inexplicably coming in and out of my life. All of you. One by one you blur my senses like a carousel of moving morals. Songs  fade, flooded memory, come back...

You don't want to talk about it. Conversation is not your strong suit. Nothing is your strong suit. You don't even own an actual suit, which I always admired about you.

I'll always be waiting for him. To come take me away from this place I've built for myself. For his experiences to become my own. For ours to grow and blossom in that french house by the water. You know the one, with the clean lines, sweet smells, lovely melodies. The one made of books and experience.

It's a reoccuring dream I have. Shes in a field playing with the daffodils you sent me, you never forgot. She looks up and yells my name. She's beautiful. She has golden locks of hair she repeats my name and I don't know hers. I am overcome with happiness. Her two brothers run over and ask if I'm okay. Tears stream down my face and I am about to fall to my knees and thank whoever I can for such a gift. They look up at me scared. Her brothers tug her sweater that hangs awkwardly over her white cotton dress. She walks to me with knowledge in her little eyes. She presents to me a daffodil. I touch it, still in awe of my life. I lean down and meet her height. She touches my cheek and asks me why I'm crying. I muster up, "Because you're beautiful darling, more beautiful then I could have ever imagined." You run over redfaced and anxious. You pick up the boys and pull her back to your hip. "What's wrong I ask?" You scream at me. I'm lost. Confused as always. You take them. I watch you go until I can't see anything. I back up until I hit a solid mass. I know the texture of bark from my memory. I follow it to the roots with the rest of my body. The warm wind blows and leaves of the great oak start to fall all around me. I realize I'm weak and pale. I stare at the place she was standing. I stare forever. For years I sit and I stare, waiting for her to reappear again.

Just as I wait for you now, I'm waiting for her. I know nothing else but she and you and her brothers and that house.




© m.f.  Feb. 2011