One (of two)

one.

two.

three.

you sigh

and I’ll be silent.

even this pact was unspoken.

unspoken but not unheard.

I don’t say a thing.

you don’t like questions,

and I don’t know what to do with your answers.

in this space between what’s unspoken

and what’s understood,

lies a brighter day, however you like it.

this space that we’ve left vacant,

is warmer than our warmest days.

here,

interpretation is better than interruption.

we can take a long stroll along this path.

it won’t be rosy, you’ll think.

but it’ll be long, I’ll say.

long it was,

the walk

from the cradle to the grave.

wounds that run deeper than the skin,

water that ran deeper than blood,

blood that tasted like love,

love that felt like unloving.

but none of that matters now.

none of that matters when you’ve made it this far.

close.

the distant dread was always close,

looming in the corner,

hiding in the bushes,

waiting for the sun to take away its light.

it’s a quarter past six now.

it’s time

to come out of the hiding,

to come out,

to go.

before we knew,

vultures started circling our homeland.

home.

some never leave but long to leave.

some run to the exit but leave a part of them behind,

hoping they’d have a reason to come back.

which one are…

which one were we?

or is it too soon to say that yet?

I’d reach for the door before I reach you,

but, again, I might find you there.

will it break my heart, then, to know that you were thinking of it, too?

or will I find solace because you thought about it?

one.

two.

three.

your sighs have crept into more than just words.

they’re buried in the books you didn’t annotate.

the smile you didn’t smile,

the letter you never wrote,

the vacant space you never filled,

the vacant space you are about to leave.

your sighs are interrupting my silence now.

and it is getting heavier to bear.

one more sigh

and

I might end up asking you a question.

one.