Yesterday (to you)

...and then, stasis. I write.

I don't know whether to call you or to leave you alone. Could it be something wonderful or just another letdown? It was never clear to me why you were there; all I could feel was the intensity of my heartbeat, dividing every moment into two as the gravity of your presence slowed my internal clock to the point that one moment could have been an eternity.

Have a good night--and then, stasis. I walk up and down the streets of my soul, singing softly to myself.

Oversleeping, not because you were in any of my dreams. I felt somehow more relaxed, as if your delicate fingers had continued to dance over the palm of my hand as I slept.

That's not my address. That's an old address. I'm trying to tell myself that it's an old address as I hear myself saying it. There is a dissonance between my thoughts and my actions. I realize I must be dreaming, so I wake up--and then, stasis. Rush to school.

Maybe I never properly said goodbye? I felt so utterly awkward looking into your sparkling hazel eyes, which seemed to change color like leaves dancing on branches in the shifting summer breeze.

Stasis. And reflection.

What I'm feeling now is only what I felt before I met you, yet somehow in your absence it feels painful. I can't possibly call you, not yet; you'll see right through me. I am the last golden leaf, clinging hopelessly to a snow-covered branch before I am carried away.

What would your absence feel like after a thousand yesterdays?