This is Page 1 of my new story:
November 19, 2010 § Leave a Comment
“You never did learn how to smoke”
He tuned to me, we were drinking on the main, it was raining and cold, and I loved him so much. He kissed me, and I was never sure if it was just to please me or if we were really as strongly bound, as I had believed.
It was his wounds that I was obsessed with, the beauty of his eyes when he turned away from me in the morning, and had to leave.I knew he understood the anger, the empty spaces I longed to fill with him, I knew he understood abandonment and I suppose that was why he left over and over again. The more he would vanish, the more I would chase his shadows.
He always had my love for departures, my passion for escape. He biked through his days, from points A to B, racing time, which always seemed still. I could not fathom how he could remain in the repetitions of streets, in the same city that drove me mad.
He saw me sink more than once; out drinking him into my ideal place, where the illusion of his affections became real. I was racing time as well, to reach that stillness, where I would no longer have to feel my body, where the universe would unfold into silence.
I suppose that is what he meant when he wrote that he saw me wasting the best of myself.