I could feel it coming, like a freight train rumbling the gravel beneath your feet. Call it intuition, or call it delusion.
Or perhaps I know you better than you care to admit.
I knew it was coming, no matter the reason. Yet it stops me in my tracks all the same.
You stop me in my tracks.
With my boarding pass in one hand, my heart in the other, I stay frozen in place.
Part of me wishes to stay here forever.
My ghost would remain in these terminals, my ashes scattered amongst tired eyes and junk souvenirs you love so much.
My soul would live in each and every gate, my pleading voice greeting each traveller.
I imagine this existence, as I carry myself like a burden through my gate.
But maybe it’s for the best. After all, every person lining these chairs will eventually leave. Much like you, they can’t wait to get where they’re going.
So focused on where you’re headed, you don’t seem to notice my heart leaping from my chest, aching to simply be enough.
My eyes closed, I allow my mind to wander back in time.
To our first date. When you held my hand, walking under streetlights to delay goodbye.
In my fantasies, your voice stays that same sickly sweet it was then.
You always listen, you’re respectful, and you wait until the end of the night to kiss me. In my dreams you never undermine me, and don’t talk over me.
And for just a moment, everything feels okay again.
But when I open my eyes, I’m 40,000 feet in the sky.
Yet somehow I feel closer to you than I ever did in your bed.
And when my plane touches down, I’ll be the first one to check my phone.
But the only one with no one to call.
