we used to howl at you

dear halo of hers,

did she let her hair down tonight? is her duvet still grey? do her eyebrows still tell on her? i guess what i'm trying to say to you is that you see her in ways i don't anymore. you hover above her city the way you do mine, with pale indifference. you are the impartial witness to how her name still quivers in my mouth.

you understand me. i've confided things to you i haven't told another soul. you hear me in ways she can't because the wind dissipates before it can carry the stretches of my sorrow. you don't judge me for the endless times i've whispered her name to you. i hope it doesn't come across as too mechanical or unvarying. you don't criticize me when i'm frayed at the edges, too worn to speak, when i'm cratering on the inside. you comprehend my glances, the many looks of longing: for her, for a new life, for a tide strong enough to pull me toward her shore.

do you see her now as i write to you? the girl I still dream about -- the one, whose laughter beams in my ribcage like stars melting in your backdrop. are you peering over her windowsill making sure she sleeps serenely? if so, can you promise me you'll rest across her clavicle like the tender palm i used to lay there? can you skate across her jaw the way my fingers once did? tell me if she still hums in her sleep, if she still utters sweet nothings out of pure fatigue.

when she looks at you, does she think of me? the way I think of her every time i see you? when you're waxing, growing and glowing, is my absence building inside her? when you're waning, becoming distant and thin, does that mean she's slipping away? when you're full, i feel her close to me, a neon sign blinding me like her memory refusing to fade.

in my mind, the miles to her surpass the miles to get to you. perhaps it's because i still see you. time hasn't done the disservice of dimming your features. i haven't forgotten how she felt though. your luminous persistence pales in comparison to her absence badgering my universe. it's perpexling how love transcends time and measurements. somewhere, there's a version of me holding her hand instead of this pen- he's walking beside her, less afraid, and she, less guarded.

if you can, tell her that she left her footprints all over my sands. tell her that the earth stopped spinning when she said my name. tell her i still remember the smell of her hair in the middle of december. tell her i never stopped loving her. be her light when her world is dark. let her dream without ache, even if it means i have to carry it.

you are the only thing we still share. you are the bridge to what's left of us.

-d