Angel,
It
has been the strangest year; 2020. Or perhaps it has been the strangest decade
it is only now that everyone else has noticed too. I have trampolined all over
the past decade or more.
Time is a strange substance. It can take a moment and let it stretch out to infinity; or it can take a decade and compress it into a flash of a memory.
There was once white limbs and a freckled back, the round contours and the tangle of curls of my heart in the shape of a woman next to me. There were eyes that hinted of wonders and a smile to outshine the sun. There were tears and laughter and pain and exultation and strong black coffee. There was chaos and quiet, and there was the constant ebb and flow of time and we could only move along with it. Even now, I can sometimes let myself be drawn into the depths and mysteries of you. I now walk through those wonders more like a ghost than a visitor. I cannot tell if I am the haunter or being haunted; perhaps it does not matter.
Time is a strange substance and it rolls in like a mist, blurring the shoreline of your memories. And yet you remain, a lighthouse. I still see you.
Just me
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