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.


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