Monday, April 02, 2012
In the future, I'm on top of a windmill, maybe a lighthouse, something up high and I can see everything; I'm alone. It's cold and it's not okay because the only way out is to go back inside where the steps go down and around, where there isn't any wind or spray from the ocean. I have no intention of returning to that dark, still tunnel but the salt in the air is eating my skin and drying out my eyes. I could jump but the tide is strong and those rocks will not be kind to my body; my bones are brittle and underneath, inside there is nothing.
So I will kiss you now, here in our bed, here in the garden, under the sun and under the stars. I will touch your face. I will close my eyes and forget everything. I will tell myself the doctors are wrong, and I will love you. No god can steal this away from me.