Come and go.
Leaving is bearable, but the uncertainty ahead isn’t. This is the way it is, now. It was, for three months now. It will be, for the road ahead. Come and go. Then come back.
Then go again.
Kiss me goodbye. One last time. And tell me that you’ll be waiting. For that one day. When all of this will be over. When there will be no goodbyes. My arms around you. Your head on my shoulders. In the calm before the storm. In the still of the night. In the silence of the overflow of words. In the incandescence of the road ahead. In the rhythm of radioed hallelujahs. In the atmosphere. The stillness. The security. The serenity. The serendipity. That made us.
Fog up my windows. Write sweetnothings on the glass. Blur the world outside. Then clear it up, so that I see only you. Be my clarity. Be mine. Let it fade. Fog it up again. And let’s write all over again.