Walking slowly on wet asphalt, down below her fourth floor window, I never see her. Brushing her hair, dabbing on lipstick, taking a new skirt for a twirl. These things march past, click-click-click, behind my closed eyelids. A never-ending reel of what I can't have anymore, what I will probably never have again. When I open them, always I am still standing alone again, a rain drop finding its way down the back of my collar.
My constant companions, sadness and desire, walk me on a leash across a city as still and black as tar. A thick film of clouds covers the moon and stars, dragging softly overhead, hemorrhaging rain silently. I keep my thumbs tucked into my hands, a habit I can not break, and look for her.
Everyone said, "There are other fish in the sea." Handing over hope like breadcrumbs. I picture the ocean, terrifying in its infinity, gaping-mouthed creatures with dull eyes, cold blood. The things that slither past your ankles, gently touching you, when you're swimming. When it didn't pass, this cumbersome heart-break, they would press their hands to their hearts, look me in the eye. Coming away with empty palms, they'd offer it up, "I don't know what to say, friend."
The swish of a bus, lit up like a gem inside, lifts my head occasionally. Small groups of people hurtling towards a common destination, the seated girl reading a book reminds me again. I slouch a little more, huddle over the desperate beating of my heart, leaking toxic emotions into my bloodstream. The feel of her delicate and pale calves in my hands. Her bright halo of hair spread out around her on the pillow. The quality of light her eyes reflected when she smiled unabashedly.
This nightly trawling, ghost-walking down endless wet streets, is cathartic. Eventually comes the first young pangs of hunger, the soft weariness of needing a smoke, the gentle throb of my too-cold hands and toes. All my thoughts shift toward creature comforts, physical gratification. My head clears as I turn towards home and once again I am nothing; I am finally out of my head. I am light as air, silent as snow, clear as glass.