What was it about you that night? The night that you spoke nothing but seemingly everything imaginable. The night that the scales that blinded me fell off before you, you working a witchcraft, a blessing, a curse. All of my senses awakened, as if they had never worked properly before.
You were there. Glittering. Shining. A light that no one wanted to admit but one that everyone saw.
You spoke of holy rites and came over me like you were one yourself.
I was burning. A fire. But you were still the only light.
Everything else I was deaf to. But your voice. Your breathing, your movements, I heard, felt, saw everything. Not one thing was missed or forgotten. You told me to concentrate. You held on to me, at times with your arms and the strongest with your eyes. You held me in chains, a dance to instruct me how to drag them around gracefully.
This will mold you into the person you are intended to be. I was told.
You were working for a higher power, and this was all part of the plan. I was told.
But I never got to ask you. What were the tears in your eyes? What was the shake in your voice? What was the difference in the tone of your voice as you spoke my name? What was with you holding my hands, cornering me in hallways, always making sure I was okay. I was never okay until you asked me if I was. And then I wasn’t okay again. Because my mind became a whirlwind, another sense you awakened. I never knew I could think in such intensity.
I never knew I could feel in such intensity.
Everything I did was in your honor. Before services began, them praising one name me another.
People I loved grieved this year. I did not grieve for these people.
I grieved for you.
I still grieve for you. The process is a never ending cycle, one I don’t even know where to begin with.
You aren’t dead. But yet you are. Where in the world are you now? You crashed down onto me with such force I had to recreate my essence from the ground up, and you crashed down into the earth itself, and I never felt you with me again.
I never saw you glancing at me from across the room, I never felt the silent need to talk whenever we could, I never felt you walk into the building as I turned around and there you were, the senses you awakened flushing through me swirling your name in my veins.
I never felt it again because I was never there again.
It was forever. But it felt like a night. It feels like some dream out there somewhere, something I awoke from that I never wanted to. I see the world for what it is but I want the world for when it was. When I was alive but not really. When I could feel but not really.
Nothing is bland. Nothing is simple with me. But you. You kept things interesting.
I know, that even now, me unrecognizable and you God knows where, we’d feel each other’s presence in an instant. And there will be a day for that. A day where we are unexpectedly in the same place.
And I’ll run to you without moving at all, and you’ll say everything without saying anything at all.