Questions To Myself
What am I supposed to do now? — I don't know, crawl back to bed maybe.
But, what now? He was the only one I was able to let close. He could touch me. No one else. And he’s gone. I lost him.
— Did you lose him or did he leave?
I think he left. I remember how it happened. Small fights. Then, gradually, signs appeared. They were there. He wanted to leave.
— And yes, yes I know, dont even start. That you would never think. Well. He did. He left. I suppose what you said in anger was actually true. That it was never meant to work anyway. It was just a dream.
—Crying under the blanket again, are we? Right.
I recall his hands on my cheeks. My eyes closed. I felt peaceful, finally. He was warm. The world was cold. It is still very cold. I’m freezing again. It’s like he came into my world, to give a glimpse of hope, a warm breeze, then left as fast as he arrived. Like a flash. A gasp of air in the dust.
— Let’s ask those naive questions. If he loved you as he claimed, why did he leave?
I guess I was blind. I didn’t wanted to see. I just aimed to be there, exist in that moment, my head resting in his hands. Forever. I just wanted to float in that particular place for as long as possible. Perhaps, augment time itself. Strech it out. Forget how imperfect of a human being he was. Forget who he was on the outside. How he lived. What he did. And just be there within the core, where we are both untouched, alone, yet together. In a circling warm harmony, just flowing. Eyes closed. Our past purged. The future did not exist.
— It was like that. When he touched me. And now, he’s gone. And it’s cold again.
