this must be the hundredth time I've thought of you tonight, in the smallest moments, between two seconds

our train rushes by and for a moment it gets incredibly loud as the tracks tremble under the afternoon heat. my hands are still shaking, yours no less than mine. while I continue to watch the play of shadows on the table between us, we both hesitate to speak a word. just one last time I want to have a deep conversation with you, one that gets under my skin. I want your words to rage in my veins and hit me in places that I didn't know about. everything around us should blur, nothing else matters but this moment, even if we may have forgotten it by tomorrow.
although I knew that I couldn't hold on to this feeling, I sense the shadow of your outline following me before it slowly dawns. I fear your absence more than constant lack of sleep and when I lay on the pillow that has still held the hollow of yours, a sudden noise tears me out of my sleep. old pictures come together to create a big whole of which I never really know what is fiction and what is reality. my vision is cloudy, my eyelids weigh tons, the pale lights of the street lamps blur into the darkness. what remains is just a reflection in the window pane, a soft melody, a gentle breeze, a crack in the middle of being. I still the air that night, when our breath was lightning and thunder and we struggled to keep up with each other's storm. I am aware some parts of me are forever lost in the depths of bygone days and what was past is once in a while present again. a full collection of memories is what I keep close, like sand under water, just waiting to be churned up again. I never stopped looking, I knew where to find you.