This nameless thing. This bottomless, hazy, empty, wholly consuming hole. An empty check list, and I with a pen, ready to account- of nothing. It’s a muted landscape, with a cold fog rising off the hard land. There’s nothing to hold on to, and when the fog clears, it’ll just be me on my knees grasping at air and steely blades of greying grass. I feel cavernous. I feel ghostly.
What lack in love I feel. The baguette with all the dough consumed, I am shell-like and crispy, flaking. Today amongst the roaring anonymity of the train I wondered if in fact, it was I who had died. Was it my last image, his body just so? Am I haunting this overcast shadow of the world?
They put his body through fire and the world topples around the absence of his form, a tower of apples with one removed. I make space for him in my body. He is so much bigger than me, some parts fall out- some memories I cannot quite replay. It burns, the forgetting burns. It hurts me to have lost the sensation of his skin on my hand. Or the sound of his voice- how did I lose that? I can remember it in fractions of a second. Or what about all the seconds in-between– I remember him bounding up the stairs, but what happened in the hour it took to sit down for dinner? I remember him sitting on the train, but I forget the gate of his walk. And so, I am a sieve. So much falls through, I grasp at what I have and I lose track of what was him and what was me. The pressure of remembering is heavy, like swimming so many thousands of leagues under the sea. But I had his last kiss, and so I must hold it, I must consume it to make it part of me, it is my burden to remember, who else will? How can a memory be so heavy that it empties you? Release the burden, release. He did, he did. Who am I to call the play by play when the game is over?
I don’t understand how I feel. It’s both cluttered and hollow, chaotic and monotone. I miss the warmth of my home, the comfort of naiveté. I miss the clarity and simplicity of emotions straightforwardly felt. I want to devour love, I want to be full of warmth. I want to lift his heavy body and curl up under him and hold all his pain in my hands and banish it all- but I need to accept that I cannot do that, and that I can only walk with the weight of my body, not of both of ours.