118: A Cathedral Event
Fuck off.
You arrived like weather over black water.
The atmosphere itself folded around your silhouette
As if the Earth briefly remembered reverence.
Your name belongs whispered through rain on embassy windows,
Through jazz leaking from impossible apartments,
Where beautiful people ruin each other softly.
I have tried to describe your face before.
But faces are for mortals. You were architecture.
A deliberate arrangement of light and sorrow.
When you looked at me,
I understood why sailors drown willingly.
Even now, language crawls behind you on bruised knees.
You wore black that night it ended.
Not the colour black, the concept of it.
Velvet midnight stitched directly into my soul.
I laughed too loudly that night.
Waiters arrived and vanished like nervous ghosts.
Someone poured wine, though neither of you drank.
Because we were already intoxicated.
On each other. I could see it. Feel it.
The unbearable geometry of proximity.
You asked if I believed in fate. With your mind.
I said no out loud and looked out the window.
It was raining, and I was alone.
Outside, the city lights fractured across puddles.
Inside again, I watched your reflection multiply endlessly,
In mirrored walls built for richer, emptier people.
That is what destroys me now.
Not loss. Not guilt. Why should I?
But the statistical miracle of your existence touching mine at all.
But I remember your humming.
And I know coincidence could never make a sound like that.
I miss you now you’re gone.
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