This Grey Day

You are running, dust flying from your hair. You leave it all behind. I cannot keep up. Or perhaps you are whirling, twisting and turning in circles, spinning so fast your fingers are a blur. I cannot catch you. Do you wish to be caught?

However it works, you are far from me; I see you only in the distance now. Brilliant glimmers on the horizon.

I want to call out to you, to beg you to come back to me. I need to tell you that I love you, that you, when you’re part of me, make me smile. You make me who I am, and without you, I don’t matter.

There, your hair catches on a puff of wind, spun gold rising up from your shoulder and cascading down again. Your back is to me. I can’t hear what you’re saying. Perhaps I never could. Never did. Never would.

Who have I become?






i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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