The Meeting

"I told her that if she wanted to start over, to meet where we first kissed. She was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago."

And yet here I am waiting, winds of thought blowing rampant through the haunted desert of my mind. Strewn here are the monuments to her love which adorn an otherwise barren landscape once dominated by fertile planes of time we shared. With her absent from me though, this place it has no purpose, and it is no wonder it has become so withered.

For days I’ve felt like I am falling but there is no end I am approaching, no ground beneath inching closer to impact against. Within me a growing hollowness that has engulfed the majority of my self and I stare blankly at this abyss.

A glance more at the clock drags me back from this inward tumble. Another five minutes have vanished and I barely comprehend that with every passing increment of time this is all turning into past.

I clutch my board tight, tighter, the whiteness of my knuckles now visible through the taught straining skin, a physical mirror of the turmoil inside. I know now it is time to move on, time to remove my own hope but my heart rebels and I want to just ride my escape until I am far away. Gripping this lifeline is all I can do to withhold an angered scream.

In the tussle for survival I grapple with emotion but grasp at reason. The questions loom large casting shadows, how could we arrive here? How could love become a thing to be questioned and weighed and then rejected.

I am the fool. It was always me that insisted, always me that pressed on in ignorance ever postponing calling time. I want there to be a reason she is late but no there is none. Or that should there be then why was this not important enough to just be on time.

I can't live like this any more; don't want to pine at every second loyally marching after someone whose will for me is not there.

Sadly none of it is new.