Been two years since that “Thank you” letter. More since your twins. A bit more since I wanted to be in your life.
I turn the music on. Your face comes back to me, and I fade away from the music. My ears and eyes fade away too. A longing for you becomes the only thing I feel.
I turn the tap on to wash my face. Minutes go by. Your figure stands before me, in the mirror, in the water, in my hands, on my face, in my eyes. Your eyes looking at me with disdain. But you don’t feel distant to me. Why?
This song comes over the radio. I am convinced it is written for me, for how I feel now. Pining for you, only for you, for no one but you.
I write these words to fill the gap–when you shut me off, won’t listen to me, won’t talk to me. When you are not close to me. It is not a pleasure. It is a wish that you don’t drown too much into mundane life, that you look up once in a while, and remember that your eyes, your lips, your body, your smile, your walk, your anger, your diamond looks have a precious place. Use this knowledge to grow yourself, reach for the heights, and fly where you want to.
Featured image: Helene de Sparte set design by Leon Bakst, 1912, via WikiArt.org.
