Computers hummed in the cramped room. Monitors broke the morning light with their plastic glow. Dead light fighting the life trying to claw its way into the dusky atmosphere behind unwashed windows.
"The watery light that mirrors in your desirable eyes..."
He typed something here, grabbed one of the several computer mice at his disposal and clicked something there. He was waiting for something but for what he wasn't sure. He lied to himself that all was well but he knew deep in the dark corners of his mind, where his fears, doubts and terror lurked, that he was waiting for the, sharp, clear and yet dark sound of his world shattering yet again. The perilously fragile shards he had only so recently glued back together to fly apart perhaps never to join up again.
"...the way you move your lips while talking to somebody else..."
Once more upon the breach, burning bridges behind and waiting guns ahead. No man could feel the way he did but every man knows the feeling. Full speed ahead, that was what he had told himself, but he paused. He’d paused. He could slap himself. She'd left him alone on a desolate platform and if only he’d tried. That one nod, that slight movement of the head. But he hadn't.
A 'ding' told him that a chat message was coming in. He forced himself to be cheerful. In the end, he even convinced himself that he was. In the end, that is as good as real, isn't it?
"...I move a little closer just to hear what you say, you speak of loneliness but here's a soul adoring you..."
Wittiness with the desperation of dark premonition. He was fooling himself. He knew. And every time the typed conversation moved closer to the truth, danced in and out of the right moment, he stalled. Changed the subject. His options were the noose or the gallows, he knew. He knew his past and knew he was doomed to repeat it.
He knew the distance between them, distances unbridgeable. But damn it if he cared. Distance is mere numbers; numbers are as meaningless as facts. Cold, dead and soulless they delineate the world of conventions and habit. There's a greater world out there. There's endless space for the soul, if only it would venture out to find it. There's a vast unexplored future ahead if only the brave set out to seduce it. Yet the price of seduction would be pain. He knew. He damned the though to the seventh circle of hell. He would gleefully burn in the fires of failure for a brief moment of success. As he had before. But he couldn't say it.
The sweet, soft, gentle expectant pain was preferable to the sharp jerk of the hatch dropping. And what if he summoned up the courage? What if he dared shout; it is you! You and only you! Don't you see! The moment to grab, the road to perdition, the sweetest mistake to make, the worst victory ever hoped for by a man. It is you.
"...your freedom's poverty that you do not recognize, the way you stalk the night, while talking to somebody else, I move a little closer just to know who you are..."
He drank his coffee. The conversation was still moving from the mundane to the intimate and back. He felt something was expected of him. Honesty perhaps.
"...your smile incredibly sweet, that's what I cannot bear, I seek the friendly water, anything to sooth my desire..."
But his mind was still on that platform, frozen in the split second when he realized that the worst that could have happened had happened anyway because of his trepidation.
He was living his life in a kiss that had never happened, perhaps never would have happened, and he didn't know how to escape.
The plastic light still filled the room. Outside it was dark.
"...you're moving out of my night, and there will be no dawn, all that could have been, remains with me internally lost..."
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