Or, well, what was on the other side of it.
For a long time I couldn’t see you. I could never run fast enough to catch up.
Sometimes I would sit on the side of the road, rest. Contemplate what it would be like to
finally
reach you.
I would dream about it as I slept among the thorns. It was easy enough to pretend that they were you.
-
Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of you— way out there, mingling with the waves of the hills, like a mirage— vague, dimly seen at first.
It makes me happy.
-
I wasn’t quick enough. Too slow, always.
You must have grown inpatient with me.
I miss you. The distance craves your touch. I wonder what that feels like…
I call out to you. Every night, I swear. Cars come and go, but their shadows never look as good as yours did.
I’m still running. I don’t know why. I have no destination.
Did I ever?
-
I look for your face in the windows. How I imagine it, anyways.
-
Smoke out a window. Melancholy chords, fading away. Impermanence.
An apparition— seen and gone.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
Or, well, what was on the other side of it.
For a long time I couldn’t see you. I could never run fast enough to catch up.
Sometimes I would sit on the side of the road, rest. Contemplate what it would be like to
finally
reach you.
I would dream about it as I slept among the thorns. It was easy enough to pretend that they were you.
-
Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of you— way out there, mingling with the waves of the hills, like a mirage— vague, dimly seen at first.
It makes me happy.
-
I wasn’t quick enough. Too slow, always.
You must have grown inpatient with me.
I miss you. The distance craves your touch. I wonder what that feels like…
I call out to you. Every night, I swear. Cars come and go, but their shadows never look as good as yours did.
I’m still running. I don’t know why. I have no destination.
Did I ever?
-
I look for your face in the windows. How I imagine it, anyways.
-
Smoke out a window. Melancholy chords, fading away. Impermanence.
An apparition— seen and gone.
