Cubism Dream

You're there in front of me, a vivid projection of a human being's physical self, so real - as if touchable. Each uttered sentence tying itself around the other creating an imaginary string that goes longer by each minute, falling onto the floor, tangling first our toes, angkles, knees, and before we know it we were bound together - as if one.

I lit up upon seeing you and in my head I was running to where you stand. In my head our every meeting took place at the airport. That's where the most meaningful encounters always happen isn't it? As if seeing the other person for the last time, trying to fit every single word into that one moment, jam-packing every single advice into a jar to be kept and forever remembered. Stories of how great your day went, how ridiculous the weather has been, how christmasy December is turning out to be, how brighter than ever the future looks, how beautiful, how beautiful I am, even when appearing pixelated. How I should write write write and stop entertaining lazy thoughts or I would die without a single word ever put on paper. So much said in so little time with such immense speed as if next time was not to come. I think it's funny though how you're looking at me and I'm looking at you but our eyes are not really meeting.

Your laugh still resounded in my every corner and it takes me with a sudden warmth - as if hugged. As if I had my shoulder leaning on your chest and your arms around me, your hands on mine. Swaying to the tick of my clock, to the impossibilities we refused to acknowledge.

"We are alright," you said.

We were together all night, though not skin to skin - just screen to screen; like a cubism dream.