Collide.

Fog horns still eerily sound off as two ships pass in the rain, threads still glisten as each is woven into the web, and sparks still fly as two comets narrowly miss one another.

All stunning in their own right.

But not nearly as breathtaking as when they collide.

I vaguely remember this gentleman sitting next to me. After months of orchestrating deepening glances and fevered smiles with quickening pulses, that reminded us we were still very much alive, he shushed me gently as he leaned in to recite a few lines that I believe he came up with on his own. He knew just how to get to me after I caved one too many times and revealed that I was at it again – writing.

It was beautiful. Something about the Universe and the starlight within my eyes.

My first instinct was to laugh it off and shush him right back with a flip of a hand; which I did do because let’s face it … he caught me off guard.

But he stopped me.

And he said, “No, listen to my words. You’re not listening.”

So, I leaned in closer as he whispered it back to me once more.

I desired nothing more than to hear someone say such things, with an honestly genuine heart. To my face. Untarnished and untamed. With a smile and glimmer in his eyes. Especially from someone who has inspired writing of my own.

But I can’t remember what he said because truth be told, I was stunned and I was lost deep within his eyes as he spoke of what he saw in my own.

I used to sit under the stars to calm myself … to orient my demons … to marvel at how small my problems were in comparison to what I saw, knowing fully well that the Universe stretched forever beyond even that. Maybe his troubles, like mine, disappeared for the fleeting moments we were locked into each other’s gaze.

Maybe he’ll enlighten me some other day as I ask him to read it to me again.

But maybe I’ll never see him again.

All I know is that I have a secret too … the likes of which he does not remember revealing, but that which lies directly beneath his skin.

Maybe I’ll enlighten him one day.

But.

I may never see him again.

Fog horns still eerily sound off as two ships pass in the rain, threads still glisten as each is woven into the web, and sparks still fly as two comets narrowly miss one another.

All stunning in their own right.

But not nearly as breathtaking as when they collide.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. That’s so sad, but so exquisitley written

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