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Over the Atlantic

I stood in front of you,
On a dimly lit cobble street,
Under the gaze of a stranger,
A friend,
A friendly stranger.

We stood, not too close to each other
   that your breath would touch my skin,
   whishper in my ear,
   Or breeze past my chest hair.

But we stood not too far from each other,
   that I could still see your green eyes,
   even under the dim flickering light,
   and feel,
   layers of happiness, guilt, freedom, gratitude,
   Sorrow, ambition, strength and love.

And we stood still.
   Not too close that the scent of your hair,
   the scent of you,
   would overwhelm my senses,
   Conjure up memories,
   Of waves and white sand,
   Rocks and Rivers,
   Yoghurt and yeast,
   Of Screams of excitement, and screams of frustration,
   Or of Cigarettes and sex.

But we stood not too far,
   that I could still touch your freckled face,
   with my fingers hiding under your hair,
   That under a rising sun, once, looked like flames of fire,
   And I could hold you!
   Hold your cheek on my palm,
   Hold your fingers with my open arm,
   Hold your heart within my own soul,
   And hold your gaze,
   that pierce through mountains of emotions,
   To a void, that no words could ever capture.

We stood, we felt,
Without words!

Words that are formalities to mask a void.
I could say thank you,
Or that I had fun, really,
Or that I will see you again, possibly,
But they need not be said,
When the hearts know how to reach, and feel,
When the souls know that this is good bye.
The closure of another chapter.
The closure of two chapters on two long books,
Where the pages leading up
were filled with vibrant colors,
Joyful details and engulfing mini stories.
In two long books,
That many new chapters,
Will be written.

So we stood..
Under the dim light,
And held each other,
Hand to hand,
Palm to cheek.
And we held the space,
Under the shadow of a stranger, a friend,
A lover who would color,
The chapters that would follow,
In the book of your life.

Good bye, my friend.
Hold her, my friend.


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