White Rope, Cigarette, Silence, Reunion, Give me a Moment, to Breathe

Let me breathe.

Let me rest.

Just give me a moment.

Nothing had changed but everything had.

This was a new season, a new season without new expectations.

Just the same.

Finding white ropes. 50 feet of them. Why so much? Did you want to tie me up and put me in your bedroom on permanent display?

I wanted another man to satisfy me. You said you should tie me up because you wanted me to be yours. 

Smoke a cigarette. It's good, it's menthol, it's making you sick, and making me sick.

We'd die of terribly painful death but we'd die stylishly.

On the deck we saw the bay; the sun was setting and you said, "You are putting on a show." I was in a short dress and you were bare chested and bare feet. I won't see you for a long while. You were to travel afar. I were to travel afar. Both for work. Both knew this was coming. You took a drag and handed the cigarette to me. I blew out white smoke. 

"We've just scratched the surface." You said earlier. 

We'd embarked on a new journey. A journey where you were no longer you. Not the young beautiful man. But this adult who took charge. 

Of me. In that new brand of style, I was teaching you, to be a man.
   
Drank a bottle of cheap wine that tasted like grape fruit juice. You took a gulp and handed it to me. I drank because I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t feel because I didn’t want to feel.

You said. I have a distinct smell. I smelled like an affair. I thought to myself. You called me "mistress" the other day.

Wash it off then, with a hot shower, wash your taste away from my mouth with a cigarette and cheap red wine.

Let me fall asleep in your arms like I used to.

You felt exactly the same. Nothing had changed. Nothing would. Nothing ever changed between you and me. 

I fell asleep in your arms as I used to. 

I buried my face in your pillow. But then I was turned over. My back towards you. You traced your hand over my newish tattoo. On my left upper shoulder. In honor of me being a leftie. Like you. Like me. You liked it, admired it, and then said, “It’s an abstract scorpion.” When the heart broke a tattoo was born. May it only be born once.

I wanted to say something but I fell asleep in your bed. Bed covered with not white sheets. They were light gray or light blue. I had never seen it before.

I wanted to say something but nothing could come out.

Should I take a 12 step program to rid of you? Are you my addiction?

I found a way to curb my desire for you. By shutting down my emotions. For how long could it last? I parked my emotions elsewhere.

The sun was setting. "You should write about us. You have plenty of materials." I gave you a sly look. I couldn’t write about you. I had no emotional space in my life for you.

This is what I think.

We are built for one person and one person only. We are all but one halves. We are not complete until we find the other half. Most of us never find the other halves Or we find the wrong halves but mistaken to be the perfect match. We are built physically perfect for one person and one person only. That person is not necessarily the most compatible person. Emotionally, and otherwise.  But we are brought into this world o find our missing halves. The missing halves that complete us. If we are extremely lucky, we will eventually meet our other halves. It may take a number of years. It may never happen. But once in a great while, we stumble onto the other halves. We know because the other halves echo what we feel. We fit perfectly, just the way we are. It may only come along when we have lost all hopes and faith. But then when we find the missing halves, the perfect ones who complete us in an utterly, profound way, we may lose our souls. Ask yourselves - what price would you be willing to pay?

You parked your car in the opposite direction of mine. We were to part ways. At the end of the marble stairwell, we embraced. You tried to kiss me but I turned my head so you planted a light kiss on my cheek. In your ways you adored me so. In your ways I was perfect for you. In your ways I was yours and yours only. In your ways I had never been away and never would. In your ways I knew that I was loved by you.  

We said in unison. "Have a good trip." You were leaving. I soon would be leaving. It was awkward in an endearing kind of way. You knew how it was like to travel for work; I knew it too. I couldn't breathe when you vanished.

I wish that I did this - to assure you, I walked up to you. to give you one last kiss.

But all I really did, was to walk away. 

I played it cool earlier. "I should make an appointment with you." My missing piece. You. My appointment.

I traveled from one appointment to another.

So did you.

The street was quiet. It was still early in the morning.

I knew your name. I knew your face. I knew everything I ever needed to know. 

And more. Perhaps. 

Your kiss lingered.

Your words echoed. 

I was once again.

Empty. And. Whole.