August 12, 2013 by Wayne.
“they say you can’t miss what you’ve never had but christ i’ll try real hard anyway”
to loop our three shared sentences into morning coffee conversations
to draw your heeled walk out over rooms and hallways
but ease off, use emotions sparingly
not all eves are the same
Once, she walked out with a last look back at the french door with equal parts trepidation and melancholic anticipation, and kissed me goodbye for the last time
In the end, we twist words to say what we wished they’d said at the time, to inject that extra drop of meaning to
hold back the crinkling of her nose as she pushed up her glasses with a single finger,
the curve of her back against the armchair,
glossy hair th-
but you’re being just as desperate in your avoidance of logic – you could have written the encyclopedia on loss and longing for her private viewing and it wouldn’t change her predetermined expiry date in your temporary life of waking, wanting, saying nothing.
Her pink pastel pleated skirt soft white top and her walk – a leech curling away from rejection into the next available set of patient ears construed as open arms
though it’s entirely possible you’re just projecting that last part from yourself
After all, you did promise to sing for her one last time when she huddled close over the ringing of shrill voices skipping between keys,
but in the end
the words dragged out over themselves and by the time you were ready, the moment had passed
and she’d left for her original spot, sipping her tea and staring out into the country that called to her.
Keep smiling, futures.