Folding Time
Low Roar. Through the headphones, finding its way around the roughed edges of this slipping twilight straight to night. This empty flight to find it's lonely cruising altitude, across these darkened skies. Distant city lights through the frosted pane, still so far... Without you.
This flip of your day for my night, my day for your night.... So stripped away and trapped apart in this opaque dichotomy, this opposition of aching vacancies, this wild chasing of ghosts - yet somehow, still, so perfectly entangled. Our memories alive.
As you now wake to the promised warmth of tomorrow's day. And as I fall into this black sleep, I am spared this building darkness, searching and finding the welcome glow of your dreams you cast hours before into this shared sea. Guided again, by your longing, your hunger - reaching, renewing - bringing me ever closer... to you.
Constantly remind, that we are pulled closer, by each minute of each long separated day. Continually conjured. Waiting for and finding again your touch. With each caress you add flesh to these ragged bones. With the echoes of your voice I hear again. With your exhaled caught breath into my hypoxic lungs, I can begin to breathe again. I taste once more as your perfect parted lips drift over mine.
Folding time... Offered, returned, shared...
To be. With you. Soon...
