Love letter # 501
Suddenly, as though a door had opened somewhere, the years have been compacted; then squashed up against now. All our time together has melted and now we’re just sitting here – you a million miles away, me choking. Our drinks have arrived; our food will be here soon. Will we eat in distracted silence – like we did last week?
I watch the couple over by the window; so young, so utterly unknowing. She looks at him with velveteen wonder. He can barely breathe for the beauty of her. All the fires burn for them.
I smile at you. You raise an eyebrow, acknowledging – not connecting.
Turn around, my love. Look back in time. Not so long ago that was us. We were the dancers – and the music played through our fingers. We couldn’t keep our hands off one another. We used to leave the meals half uneaten.
But that was before everything. Before the years, before the banks, before the future got in the way. We owned nothing then – and no one owned us.
I want you to love me again, not just put up with me. I want your sweat on my skin. I want your bitten lip. I want that 4am promise kept.
I wanna love or die.
We are not here to pay the bills, my angel. We were sent for fire.
Leave with me now, right through that door. Leave the dollar bills on the table and for once, let’s be hungry, not merely starving. Kill all the phones, open up the jets, burn off the scales. It’s us, after all.