E U F A U X R I A

One day, these words will not matter. It will be of no bearing that I commit them to this space carefully in the darkness of this room. A different breath will escape from a stranger’s sleeping mouth as dawn creeps in through these dusty windows. Perhaps they will be clean then on that one day. 

I could be elsewhere when that time comes, with faded memories fewer than my fingers.

Or none to count at all.

Who knows really?

I could be running towards some bright figure, real or imaginary, in a land where I can claim a new name. By then, time may have buried the image of your face so far down a hidden crack where light never finds it. The same light that fills my eyes when I think of you now. That knowing glimmer of regret.

Captive words quickly trampled by the daily rush of pushing past the past.

That day is not today.  

These Blue Walls

Days like these, the paralysis sets in,
as the wet streets whisper, “stay away”.
My mind travels through a labyrinth of darkness,
illuminated only by soft, gleaming fragments of nights spent by your side.

Days like these, I breathe slowly,
as we did in each chilly hour huddled under the sheets—
secrets littered like confetti on pillows that still hold your scent,
lying on a bed that seems to recall your laughter.

Days like these, I fight my fingers, 
as they force their way to finding your name, 
struggling to keep my doors closed to you,
but these skeleton keys make it far from easy. 

Days like these, I learn how to swim,
fighting through the cold flood of things left unsaid,
before floating on the current of warm memories,
shared by these blue walls surrounding me. 

(image is a promotional still for Weekend)