You and I

You say it is the most beautiful thing you have ever read. I have been holding my breath, but in the way your words catch, in the tremble I had not yet heard – I believe you. You tell me with glittering eyes that you will keep this letter forever.

And I wonder. Will you slide my confession between the pages of a favoured book? Will you see the spine each day pressed up against lesser books and be reminded of the central nervous system contained within? Will it pulse with your secret until you have to remove this book with its piece of paper tucked between pages 84 and 85? Will you place it in a box high on a shelf until the heartbeat slows? Until there is only a faint thud to be heard on certain days and certain nights – in the hope these too will fade with time?

And one day years later will you be looking for something else when that box comes tumbling down? Will you experience that long forgotten thud when you see this once favoured book and what it holds within? Will the faint scent of vanilla and dust be released from pages 84 and 85 as you open my letter with the shake of older hands?

Here I imagine you on the floor, reading the words I wrote all those years before – right at the centre, when we were brand new. When I took our myth as historical fact. I imagine you tracing the words slowly, following the breadcrumbs back until you reach the beginning of you and I. Where I told you these three little words could define us. How only the saddest of combinations – I miss you – would last longer, and how this would only begin at the end.

I wrote of how you and I were the beginning and the end, and the revelation in between. That from the big bang whole new universe created from our encounter, you and I were making a parallel world to last beyond the inevitable return to our own.

Will you now remember this long forgotten world, our Atlantis buried deep? Will my words resurrect its streets and its temples as you sit there on the floor? Will they rise up around you – the bars and the parks and the hotel rooms that were once our altars? These places of worship and exaltation, covered in cigarette burns and red velvet, and so much better in the dark?

Will your body remember for just a moment what you and I had there? Before we are again placed high on a shelf and the world contracts?

You say it is the most beautiful thing you have ever read. It is in fact a map of you and I. To help you find your way home.

You and I  - body, remember

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6 thoughts on “You and I

  1. This is beautiful. Reminds me of ‘When You Are Old’ by W.B. Yeats:

    When You Are Old

    WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep,
    And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
    And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
    Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

    How many loved your moments of glad grace,
    And loved your beauty with love false or true,
    But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
    And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

    And bending down beside the glowing bars,
    Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
    And paced upon the mountains overhead
    And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

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