june 25/march 25

the rain was gently tapping on the cracking windshield. an array of stereo wires twisted together to place a simple tune just out of reach of the patter from the raindrops. the window was cracked, allowing that smell to infatuate the senses, an early spring truth serum. the temperture was neither warm or cold, just a refreshing taste of what is to come as the seasons progress. i thought of that day. the rain was gently tapping on the windowpane in an empty apartment. over the raindrops i struggled to first hear your knock and then your tear filled words. the air was damp. we laid on the floor barely touching, hardly breathing. that same familiar melody that returned this morning found its way through a different set of wires, placing a tune just out of reach of your heartfelt sobs. i recall a feeling of desperation, not for myself, but for the person i wish i would have become to her. the last fleeting seconds, a run through the airport, striving for a gate preparing to close. i knew in that moment that i had missed the flight. months before i had already been to late. now it was her, a cheshire cat, fading away and then reappearing in a different doorway, upon a different bed of leaves, or just across that short plank-wood bridge, asking for my counsel. i had made myself out a saint, the compassionate exlover, welcoming with open arms a once well known friend. it was in that moment that it ended for me. where for her the many months of my agony had become a perpetual annoyance, her having let me go long before i saw the sunset fade. in that moment i knew i had never struck the emotion within her heart that he had. yes, i had made her happy, but, i never left that longing in her bones, i never sparked that kind of emotion. i had to let it go. then, this morning that moment returned through the gap of time to me, filling me with a sense of incredible emptiness. the rain still falls, and my heart continues to ache across the years for her. it always continues to ache for her, she was my beautiful goodnight, but not my last dream. will the plague ever fade? will the nights continue to pass as an empty old man on an empty interstate? these days the counting forward is surpassed by the mirror of the past. there are the dark days.



listening to -
the funeral - band of horses (everything all the time)
play crack the sky - brand new (deja entendu)
the boy who blocked his own shot - brand new (deja entendu)
a rush of blood to the head - coldplay (a rush of blood to the head)
my sundown - jimmy eat world (bleed america)