Mismatch

Again farewell.

I embrace you into my eyes.

And on this second of distress, when your eyes land on mine like a bird who pretends to like this warmth, you always fool me and go off running again spreading your wings against the wind, trying to gain any distance that concedes you to walk away from me.

I look at those distant landscapes and watch you flying through the clouds. Your flight almost awkward, almost wanting to land, in my arms. On my embrace, always weary of waiting for you.

But if you come back to me, you find my arms always open, eager for seeing you land.

And in the sea that shelters in your eyes, the blue that always remind me of one thing or another from the sky, I lose myself on you. I always lose myself. The trembling soul who yearns to leave a body that can not touch you, tells me that nobody else knew the secret of making me dance like you did. Dancer in the silence of your eyes. From words you never say. The promise you never made me.

I glorify this mismatch. And this imbalance is what supports my entire structure. Your rambling ways, your subversion, and your gentleness, are your print. Things that are yours. All your things are sacred outcomes. Mandalas of time tattooed on my pores, your essence that turns the lights on me, one by one, when you walk into the room. But now you are going away.

And once again I must learn to say goodbye, even when far from thee, I will succumb to the slow and sad death. Because it was you who lit all things vivacious in me.

Once again I embrace this incandescent abandonment, and I wave to you at the other side of river. We were always in opposite directions. I will let it go, but not without bleeding, the weight of this loss. Farewell, best friend, the best laugh at the end of every day.

Somethings just were not meant to be.

Ana Frantz