Moving

I wish I could say the work of moving to another place, (a much smaller place, I'll add) distracted me from my thoughts. It didn't, however. Despite my best efforts and those of my friends, (who graciously helped me move, and I thank them) I remain swimming in my thoughts and memories. I leave to another place yet my body feels void of all fluid and movement, tuneless and vapid.

It feels like the sensations of the world are threads that lead me to memories of her. The most unlikely things too. For instance, my sister commented on a hole she found on an article of clothing, wondering aloud if she knew anyone who could fix it. Suddenly I'm flooded with the first evening I saw her sing, and a comment her friend made on how she is the type to alter clothing. Its clear that she can alter much more..

I have this dream that keeps sneaking up on me, sometimes in my waking life. In the dream I am seated looking up at her eyes as she stares down. In my waking life its me over her, staring down as she smiles up at me. I remember kissing her forehead.

I've learned to fast it seems. I go throughout the day without eating, as if sadness alone nourishes me. I may have to learn other things soon too. Reminds me of that song they play at the end of the phantom of the opera movie during the credits.

Sometimes I wonder if she reads it, though I imagine she doesn't. I'm caught between wanting her to and not wanting her to. Mainly because she shouldn't see me as such a wreck. I really wouldn't want to trouble her with all this.

Still, I have hope. I wear it like a new pair of jeans, heavy and rigid to walk in. Perhaps a time will come when I'll be able to walk freely again. When I will be able see her eyes smile when I tell her she persists as the inner soundtrack to my heart.