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This does not exist

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Here we lie in a room that does not exist. I move across your absent body; you stroke your hand along the curve of my transparent back.

In this room we pretend reality to our dream. In this room we read the stories we hope to tell more loudly but whisper instead. This is our twisted fantasy of maybe. This is the beginning and the end. The music is soft and I can hear the notes in your throat. We’ll write a song, you and I; we’ll write a poem, pen them on the wall behind the bed. They will be a secret for no one to find. They will be the words that are never repeated, only remembered when we dream them back some other time.

I ran for miles to get here. I ran for miles to find you. Outside everything scratches at my skin and I am here for a few hours of no more. Quiet now I remember the people I pulled behind me; lord knows I’ve twisted from a thousand grasps. I wanted them to hold tighter, I wanted them to make me understand or feel, but nothing has been the same since everything broke. And then I heard your voice and it was so faint but I followed regardless. From time to time it faded and then I faded too. Then it grew louder and I ran faster. I ran to you.

And I’m here and your hands are heavy on my throat. The edge is pushing at our flesh and we are the only ones who can help each other now. Everything else always falls away. Nothing before has been enough. I am asking you to meet me; asking you not to fall down.

As you move closer to the truth of me I find comfort in the impossible. I can only be held down for these few hours you have me. I build substance in the half light, in places that are not real, just made in the way I describe them back. I only ever want the moment of everything. The moment when I can’t breathe for feeling you and then I will climb down and run on and away as I have before and will again.


Written by elikafm

March 20, 2010 at 7:38 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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