Can't you see how much it's changed me. Just look at the lines on my face.
Did you notice the difference when you left? Could you feel it at all?
There's this emmense amount of distance. Stretching on forever.
I find the map and draw a straight line. Over rivers farms and state lines. The distance from me to where you'd be.
It's only finger lengths that I see. I touched the place. Where I'd find your face.
My fingers in creases of distant dark places. I hang my coat up in the first bar. There is no peace that I found so far.
You were gone for so long. What was there for me to do.
Except for sit alone at the place we called home.
All I knew was how to miss you.
The laughter penetrates my silence, as drunken men find flaws in science.
Their words mostly noises. Ghosts with just voices.
your words in my memory, are like music to me.
There was an ocean between us. I slept alone at night. I drank by myself.
And never any trace of you. No letters in the mail. The phone didn't ring once.
Just your memory. A picture of your face in my mind. The only thing I had to cling on to.
Where were you?
My heart was aching. In pain. Every day and all through the sleepless nights.
I couldn't let go of you. I went everywhere just to search for you. Where we used to go together.
My solitude held up. Are you suffocating as well?
After I have travelled so far. We'd set the fire to the third bar. We'd share each other like an island.
Until exausted close our eyelids. And dreaming pick up from, the last place we left off.
The centimeter of air between our hands. I dare not to touch you. I dare not to mistake your presence as a meer figment.
Touch me if it's really you. Console me before I shatter to a million pieces. Please.
your soft skin is weeping. A joy you can't keep in
My desperation. This emptiness has taken it's tole. If I can't run my fingers through your hair.
I will spontaneously combust for sure.
I'm miles from where you are. I lay down on the cold ground and I pray that something picks me up and sets me down
in your warm arms.
Patricia placed the scissors delicately on the hardwood floor beside her. She caped the glue stick and put it next to the scissors.
With a vibrant green slash of highlighter across the piece of old parchment, the tears started to fill in her eyes. She stared longingly into the glossy haze of Jason's eyes blinded from the flash of the photographer. On the ground next to the scissors and glue was a picture of herself and a man whose head had been cut out. There was a cake in front of the man with scripted writing that said good luck Jason. She had iced that cake herself. She had thrown him the party. She closed her eyes, and put the highlighter on the ground as well, next she put a black pen down. She folded up the parchment. On her left hand were times, airports, and kilometers written in ink. She placed the parchment on the ground next to all her other equipment. It unfolded itself revieling a green x over London with a corresponding green line all the way to California, where Jason's cut out head from the picture was glued and circled. Patricia grabed her purse and the map and left the house with the car keys in her hand.