On the cracked benches of dusty railway stations,
in the populated sterility of airport lounges,
termini or sanctuary, in motion or static,
you are always with me, love.
In the secret crevices of time
that wind the hours fast or slow,
in the geometry of the metropolis,
on flood plains and seared tarmac.
Nestled in the sheets of hotel beds haunted
by the regrets of previous patrons.
At idle restaurant tables, beyond the coffee cup
or water bottle labeled with indecipherable script.
The scent of you is always on me,
your warmth sleeps in my blood,
my soul carries your mark.
You are always with me, love.
Damn another one straight to the heart.
I’ll be damned if I can figure out how you can resonate so loudly in so few words. This was beautiful, RG!
I always love your poetry. It’s amazing. This was no disappointment.
Just re-read this and it’s still as haunting and lovely as all the other times that I read it.
Indeed, haunting, accurate and painful in its intense loneliness – or at least, it resonates with my sense of loneliness, or unsettled detachment. Carrying someone with you, not in the sense that you are always connected to them even in absence, but that you are never closer than this, whether near or far