The Ache Against Infinity

On tippy toes, you approach my coach bus.

Squinting your perfectly rounded hazel eyes for greater clarity,

You bleed the softest of smiles when you finally see my face through tinted windows.

I had been attentively watching you against that deep red panelling.
The way you nervously put your hands in your pockets as you waited,

And how you lightly threw your head back, heartily laughing,
As you took a phone call.

Your neon cargo shorts mirroring your bright personality.

I wanted so badly to break this glass barrier between us,

To transgress it,

To run back into your strong caramel arms,

To feel the rounded curves of your muscles,

And softness of your skin,

To tell you that leaving is something I just can’t do.

Waiting for my difficult departure seems endless,

I cushion the space by remembering staring at your car clock,

6:47pm,

Praying that I could freeze the moment your lips touched mine,

The one where you kissed me with emergency three times in the closest of intervals.

Your fingers touch your rounded lips as you blow me kisses.

Your eyes whisper the softest “I love you baby,”

And it becomes apparent to me that this is the moment I have been dreading,

The moment that I have tried to forstall for days.

I smile even as my sadness rises,

Nodding my head in a single motion,

But the hollowness bubbles,

It wells deep in my chest.

This ache is the hardest.
Knowing that the space between us will grow wider, 
More expanse, 

Its the most unforgiving of pain.

I watch as you walk away slowly,

Never turning back,

And then my single, it seems my only, tear falls.

I wonder, will you pensively think of me as you drive home…

Through those roads decorated by the towering green trees and the amber setting sun?

In the stillness of your car’s silent soundtrack,

Will you become overcome with emotions just as I had driving in our last car ride together?

When you are long out of sight, and the road breaks apart open green fields,

I stare into my faint reflection.

I remember how the hazel in your eyes stretches out and intermingles, and yet remains distinct, from the camoflauge green.
This thought begins to grant a reprieve.

I remember how it feels to lie in your embrace after I’ve cried,

To feel soothed by the rhythm and rise of your breathing, and the warmth of your heat.

How it was only this morning,

That we sat sitting up, 
You with closed eyes and I with my ear directly over your heart,

Trying to commit the rhythm, 
A deep resounding bass,
Of your heartbeat to my memory.

This is what it feels like to love somebody.

To love someone so deeply that even infinity is not enough.

To leave them steals the words from your lips,

It blurs the disorganized chaos in your head,

Draws a stinging pain,

One that is partnered by hyperventilating.

As the coach bus establishes a rocking pace,

And the sound of the rubber wheels hitting pavement fills in the silence,

I remember that night at Durand Eastman beach,

Where my bare feet touched the cool sand for the first time this season.

You sat next to me on that low grey rock for two,
You remember?

Intertwining our fingers,

My head lightly laying against your shoulder.

As you stared into the distance,

Your face was framed by a pink sunset,

And it was here that I came to know that there is nothing more powerful than living in this moment, 
Rather,

In every moment that we create together. 
It is ever powerful to live as though it is the last and only sensibility that matters.

In these endless increments of time,

Our love is what drowns out the ache that only separation yields.

Our love is what enables the beauty that is our interlocked infinity.
This is what I have come to know.
This is what our love has taught me.