It was the end of what felt as a dragging decade and
it took us several clockworks to finally scratch each other’s scabs,
see each other sweat simultaneously while we both screamed:
F I N A L L Y, our flights had arrived.
From the moment your tiny body grew from a speck on the horizon into a giant my heart expanded.
Knowing we were breathing the same breeze took all the weary out of my toes and refilled me with long lost excitement.
During these grey clouds in my diary I longed for our distance to be shorter.
We paid the airlines of our hearts to fill our blank spaces
but due to our current situation our trips had been cancelled.
I kept rephrasing old stories into current times
hoping the blank lines in our journals would feel less empty.
There used to be words where now flat lines cover our headlines
so our weekly updates on eachothers piffling life just became even more ordinary.
Before we were capable of following each other’s scent.
While rushing through cities of odors I could track down your pheromones with my eyes shut.
Blindly I would navigate closer and closer towards my home.
But I’ve lost our mutual ground control.
I tried to touch you through the glass.
But the way we would wink or cough as one now keeps delaying by one…………….second.
I miss the correspondence between my fingertips and your skin, my lips and your cheeks,
they way they bounce back when I try to tattoo my touch into your body.
I tried to shape bouquets of your smell so I could remember what life was like.
Before our hallelujahs were merely stranded crashes.
Forgotten messages which filled up our empty pauses in between missing another.
They now became vibrant memories which we would recite when our mutual compasses broke.
I hadn’t experienced the loss before of open doors now unanswered.
I hadn’t felt a cold echo making me travel empty handed.
I’d never owned a suitcase that delicate.
So when I was able the scratch your scabs,
lick your wounds and comfort those grey clouds in between those lost seconds
our hallelujahs finally meant something.