Airports ~ 8-16-15
I don’t know what it is about airports. If it’s the idea that somewhere at 2 am he’s waiting for her plane to land. Has it been 2 days or 2 years? How many hours has he thought of her and her touch? The sweet bliss that comes with her voice, and the misery in knowing she could be here with him right here, right now, where she belongs, but she’s not. She’s a 3 hour flight away, and boy were his fingers itching to just buy the damn ticket to see her. But now, here he stands, skittle in one hand, because “who needs flowers when you can taste the rainbow” according to her, and an arm, patiently waiting to scoop her up as soon as she steps off that escalator. Maybe that’s why I sit here, smiling, dazed in the stories that surround me. I live for possibilities. I’d like to picture this happening, somewhere, somehow. I’m a sucker for this love shit. Â
