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Crossing Over: A Love Letter

A space large enough to hold a planet enables it to move miles in seconds. The distance between you and me, our tiny specks floating in the cosmos is unfathomable. The time it will take to get to you, to feel your breath on my back cannot be written or perceived. I begin.

Today I made another letter that you will never receive. These things don’t fly or travel through mist. Letters are not spaceships. Oceans, mountains, those jagged Himalayans, mercifully block transmissions hoping their interception will ease my pain. Winds riding peaks disrupt papers. An act of intervention fails. I won’t let go the longing. Lost are the days when I could taste your tongue.

Everyday, when the sun coats everything, I hear you laughing brightly at everything and no-thing. You were entertained by the mundane. I pick up my pen to write you.

When you left, there was a time when you were dead to me. Then, when you actually died, I resuscitated your cruelty and held it close. I fell in love with you again. I started writing you these letters.

I should forget all this and come meet you. The magnetic void that drew your soul might be a friendly place. It might allow us to embrace and roll, entwined like a yin-yang symbol down into a refreshed destiny where my writings to you stand up and cheer. The sound of a million books open and close, pages ruffle. It’s deafening and magnificent.

When I hold hands with you again, after I’ve said my goodbyes and the deed is done, I promise I won’t cry. I won’t moan about the lost time, my aching to get to you or what I left behind.

Dear Friend,

You must understand that after so many letters, it seems logical (and I am logical), that a part of me would change. My efforts to reach her in this way haven’t worked. Plus, I can no longer tolerate the pain that has injected itself into my cells, into my light. Still, I have waited too long. Parts of me are numb. It’s as if I’m dead already.

Therefore, it is via an act of efficiency and inevitability that I take the next step. I will be shape-shifting this afternoon.

Please remember to feed the cats.

The Shapeshifter


You Know Who This Is

She let it well up inside her. She’d been holding it forever. It was a feeling of loneliness that had ancient roots from the first kiss. Nothing had felt like that. The entire journey of her soul started in a parting, the longing catapulting her into space. Then finally, after she had reached her arms out for a million years, she let a teardrop fall.

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