I know you are leaving. The way your eyes avert when I look at you tells me that. The way you glance at your watch and tap it tells me your time with me is running out. I know I shouldn’t panic but I feel like I am in a cross country race with you at the other corner of this country and everytime I run and huff and puff and reach you, you’ve already moved forward, without a backward glance. You always leave a bottle of water behind because you know I am out of breath.
I know I will stay. The way I long for your words tells me that I will. The way your sigh fills up my desires tells me that this is how I stay alive. I will stay suspended in this cage of my longing for you because I feel free trapped in you and I feel trapped free from you. The way analogies pop up in my head during normal conversations tells me how much I find you in everything that I do or so.
I don’t know what you want. The way you push me away and then reel me back in before I fall over the edge doesn’t tell me that. The way you snub me when you want to doesn’t tell me that. But you never let me go, and you never hold me back when my heart wishes for you to. The way I feel like a puppet in your hands tells me this
I don’t think I should stay. Because your confusion consumes me, your silences scream at me and I am destroying myself by giving you a part of me everytime you ask. But you take away more than just a part. You take away my essence. And I become a lone star guiding you home. Because I cannot see your path darkened by your own brand of darkness.
And then you switch on the light and ask me what mysteries of my life am I solving in this dark room? I want to tell you, it’s you. But you have already left me in a roomful of light and your receding back mocks me.