it was thirst

I woke to this.
A single touch to advance hope, your hand on mine. You hold so much power over me. But you hurt like stones.

It was a morning of coffee and email. I checked social media, and found a single new overnight follower. With a message for someone unknown in the world. 108 characters. An account with 10 followers, following 25. I followed back. 26. I won’t reveal an identity. The phone rang, and it was forgotten.

It became busy. The day rolling out like an India patterned path, found in error on an anxious hunt for stillness. How many times can one count one’s own breaths in expectation? While always alert to the merciless moment.

That afternoon, another. 132 characters.
Sunless in a room of unseeable colour. You might have continued with love. But commenced with winter. Failing to see the difference.

In the evening, 118 characters… 
On our wedding day you made me crave death. It was thirst in a house of poison. I held my breath like an unlit candle. 

That night, 130 characters…
Planets and trees are in my hand. The dark DNA. The illuminating moon is tragic. The blue honed edge with its straight razor grin. 

At 3 a.m.
Angels on the sidewalks, on morning trains. By now I am one of these. A schematic etched in glinting sand. Marble mouthed. And statue eyed.

At 7 a.m.
Cyber silence. Virtual absence. The absolute abandonment of space. Perhaps she was never really there. Maybe a vacuum fills with particles and neutrinos. A deserted account on a mysterious server. Forever. The telephone rings, and it is forgotten.


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