A woman on a bench by the sea

[accompanies #]

I wait for him

We keep eachother warm with phone calls and brief, inspired text messages

To remind the other of this place we occupy deep within our parts.

Where does he travel to?

In the shadows

between streetlamps

he's walking a kerb almost unknown to me.

At moments so tender and others,

impossibly remote.

My kerb seems pretty simple.

The world turns with my life.

I move what's put in front of me rather than waiting for the divinely plan to create all, diminish all so I can move into its spaces.

It just doesn't happen.

But still he travels. Briefly illuminated.

And somehow we continue too.

Like phospherescence that floats on the dark sea.

Deep with an electric texture.

Inexplicable.

And right.

...

My fear is he won't come back.

His philosphies, or even travels on foot, will create too much between us to be illuminated any more.

And this pains me - know it pains him too

Though he can always retreat to his splendid thought-out castles and come down a bit later

Find the foundations fully removed

But safe while he's there.

Unmoved.

Though still I'm feeling

Waiting.

Knowing he'll come down eventually.

But I might not be there for him when he does.

( leaves)