love

Kissing air You chased after me. I shove open the door with a deafening crash, slamming it against the opposite wall. You rise and call out to me, incoherent words and meaningless phrases. The late afternoon light is bronze and sears my cheeks without notice. The suitcase in hand is empty, barren and void like a desert; what do I have to take it with me when you've plundered and stolen everything else? The lonely dirt road is strangely unfamiliar but the train station is in sight. I stride towards it.  You caught my hand. As you wretch my body to face towards you, your gasps surge down my face and your dark eyes distort, wild with fear. You ask me stupidly if I was really going. When I recoil away, you pluck me back again as if I am a flower that bends away from your oppressive wind. Staring at me to the point of being a glare, you tell me not to leave. My dress slides easily over my body like the ocean's waters; what happened to the love that was born that day I first touc...