Your Nearness is The Nearness of Planets

Souls and nights and dollars and wine ,

old songs, new lovers - we’ve seen enough of this world to know it all and yet -

we still hope for immortality,

for an eternal love ,

for a bright yellow Californian sun in our eyes .

She pours us some morning coffee in her small apartment

I wonder how this tiny place could fit all these big visions of hers

‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac plays in the background.

She must be wondering what she could do to make me stay; nothing comes to mind so she pours more coffee, changes the song;

whatever she does

I’ll go back home in LA.

Weeks gone by, no sign of blue skies just yet,

just dozens of her letters:

"Your nearness is the nearness of planets"

"I'm yours if you'll have me

but regardless, you're mine."

London rain pours while she waits for me

by a crowded Hampstead diner - why is it that we’re ever so bothered by people and just as much, lonely by ourselves - What do we want? Who do we want?

Tonight’s sadness reminds me I used to be like her - surrounded by imposters unable to escape, too afraid to scream, to confess my soul .

You see, the thing is - we wait for what it feels our whole life to find someone who’d feel like home, someone who’d see right through us and when we finally meet them we either fail to measure up, or we get scared .

Then we pretend we’ve hallucinated the entire relationship and we squeeze our eyes as hard as possible, hoping that we won’t be questioned any more.

She’s still standing by this run-down diner, thinking

if there was any chance we’d be immortal then there was definitely a chance for us.

I open my eyes at last - she appears from the sea dripping. I laugh at her stubborn inability to let go of me but her joy is so immense that it makes me want her to stay

here - under the baking golden afternoon Sun for as long as this hallucination lasts ,

sadly not for the eternity she was hoping for.