hugs and kises

Uneventful week through an eventful mind.

Everything should be getting back to normal about now, though gazes engage and gazes avoid, like the first day at a new school.

I sit back in the bus seat watching the streets go by turning into highways, freeways, and clouds and trees, while the faces and the voices disappear into the fog, and I can't sleep.

I noticed something was wrong, but it was already too late. I still recall the day I saw his eyes open for the first time. I recall now, the day I saw his eyes fading away, leaving for good, leaving for ever, and I didn't cry. I held on to my tears inside my soul, like a needle pushing inside my heart.

I arrive at the port finally and sit again in yet another seat, and go trough, in the middle of cold questions, no feelings, no explanations, just let me go. Everyone has his own agenda. And then I sit again, in yet another seat.

But I can hear his little voice too, He doesn't say anything, but I hear. And I can see his big eyes staring at me, and he smiles and makes me smile. There's no need for a reason here. And He grabs my hand for a walk going around again and again, dancing every once in a while.

I'm not there yet when I'm already missing her voice, and I'm dying to hear her voice call my name. And it's all blurry, and there's no music playing, just another seat. And even if I don't want to think, I keep thinking. Hoping. Wanting.

The air outside gets colder an colder. For the fist time I want to get there soon, it may be that the last time I couldn't find a reason.

The guy comes to me and tells me about his problems, about he is not wanted, but he offers me his help. And he lets me know he is always watching; "Even when you don't see me... I'm still saying hi" ... and his eyes look like those eyes fading away, but somehow he's still breathing, still swallowing death.

And then a very simple idea turns into a chain of confusion. She hugs me and we were about to kiss. And she is still there, thinking of me in the night. But then I read a name, and nothing is the same, and I fly back to the idea, I go back to my old ways and think only about the one I use to care about just hours ago when I was between the clouds, and nothing is the same.

But I'm going to leave the doors open, and I'm going to risk a bit more this time. Yet I will go back tomorrow and sit in my chair half of the day. But this time I need to know. This time I'm not going to shut my voice up.

Yet I still miss her voice so bad.