The morning before I left was spent not letting the thought of uncertainty dig deep in our heads but poured boiling water on those worms until they were cast out of the gardens in our skulls. We pursued them with fiery determination to submit ourselves to hedonism.
We explored each other’s bodies and shared laughter at the lack of discomfort in our sheets. We had beers with breakfast, filled the room with the sound of laughter and music and food cooking in the kitchen. The Holy Trinity of beautiful noise. I wish every morning could be like this.
I sometimes have to convince myself it happened, and you are not some hellish trick I’ve played upon myself. Maybe its just sentimentality, maybe its just starlight, but now I know there is a life worth living in cities I’ve only had a short time to love, it’s so much harder to go back to a home i don’t belong to.
We barely said a word when we woke. Got showered and dressed in silence that hung in the air as the ropes holding us together became more and more taut. On the bus we didn’t speak still, but you rested your head on my shoulder and watched the world I had come to love slip away from me. I wondered in that moment what you were thinking, wanting to know if you’d miss me. I guess I was being stupid.
I remember we kissed for the last time at the airport. While we made tender movements with our mouths, the ropes holding us together became tighter, and tighter, then snapped.