Work Text:
I've been counting days,
recently.
Watching the sky merge grey
And gold
around me,
heartache moment, minute, month.
Seconds and stolen lines
that track the time
until the free breeze
returns you to me
in a rush of colour and sound
Because we're young
And alive.
I know I can't have that
(right now, anyway)
so I continue to
Count the days
as
Everything motion-blurs
as you zero in on
Me.
But not me, really -
because there's more than me
as you stare out
Across miles of open sea
that cut our string in
Two.
Crying hours, weeks, years.
I feel the tears
and it's
Beautiful
like the grey and gold
Like the heartache
and the blur
of the salt coating my eyes
and the life fading
to Nothing
around me
Around
Us.
But not us, really -
because that's an illusion
that maybe our minds
created some protrusion
that forays across space
And, damn, you'd say.
Space is beautiful.
The grey and gold stars
that live on brightly in
The passing of cars
and the slipping of time.
A sorrowful final countdown
perusing shelves
Seeking
a happy end.
We know it's coming.
We can feel it in the cold
north breeze
or the blurring
Of the grey and gold.