BY VINCENT TEVNAN
The feeling cannot be expressed
In a matter of a few words.
That late evening, or perhaps early morning
When saying ‘Goodbye’ was akin to counting the stars in the galaxy
The infinitely small amount of time our gaze met
The same thought generated in that moment
Our lips like magnets
The world could have stopped rotating
We could have died in that moment
I would be blind to it all;
Vignettes of the moment cascade
The sun illuminating the sky with dashes of blue and orange
Like throwing paint to the canvas of a new day
I could have sprinted home; cloud nine, the knot in my stomach
reminding what is like to be alive.
Time passes by
Blur; trees out of a car window.
We’ve met again
The butterflies in my stomach swarm; they so desperately want to
explode from my chest.'
You tell me awfully dreaded words
Needles in my ear drums.
You tell me it was a mistake.
Inexplicable heavy emptiness consumes me
Hollow, cardboard box, vessel that was myself in the moment.
Hardwired chest pain.
‘Goodbye’ was equally as difficult
For antithetical reasons
Walking home on that crisp night, the streetlights pass by in my
bleary vision I could have died in that moment
And be blind to it all
It was a mistake.