You’re a dark spec on the horizon while I’m floating away. Walking the streets of London. Curling up close to musical voices more embracing than the California air outside. I am everywhere and simply nowhere. Do my eyes betray me? I’m sure the blank stare is confusing, but I’m too impressionable to resist the lure of simple imagination.
How long is too long? When is never long enough?
My steps are wet and vibrant on the street at dusk. Damp boots carrying the dust of a thousand miles crossed in an instant. My cold breath makes wispy clouds in the air, circling my head in a gentle parade of vapor mixed with warmth. I reach the steel door and slide in the ancient key. There is hot tea and bread waiting inside. I sit down across from your ethereal presence. We celebrate the magic of never knowing each other. Aren’t we so lucky to live as this? Lovers that never were. For a moment I would give everything to just be here, in this place within my mind, forever. In love with your voice as it cracks while you’re singing. Your breath is as warm as a blanket covering my soul, as it draws in to issue another round.
http://www.spooncafejournal.org/2009/12/we-will-not-be-last.html?showComment=1260230289707#c6948868274171010060'> December 7, 2009 at 3:58 PM
I'm glad to see this one again.