i don’t like it when people walk away. my shining, fascinating people — but i guess it’s just jealousy makes me want to keep them.
they have lives of their own, or so i am told, in which they know and love and are loved by people i have never imagined.
but still. they go. they cleverly cover their tracks so i can’t follow … even if i wanted to.
especially, perhaps, if i wanted to.
ten years. ten years since i saw one of my shining, fascinating people. we were friends for two weeks, but it felt like we’d been friends from birth, or long-lost siblings found again. or maybe it was something different, something i couldn’t understand, so something that couldn’t last.
another shining person made me remember dreams i’d long forgotten. little dreams, yes, but dreams nonetheless, and i reached out and held them in my hands. but again, i was too young to understand … or so i am told.
then five years between purgatorio and paradiso, only to finally emerge and watch a beautiful shining person fall down, down, down, flirting with the inferno.
why do people flit in and out of our lives like so many clouds in the sky? to know someone intensely, then turn around and find a stranger in the shoes of a former friend. it’s baffling. and distressing.
or have i been trying to kindle my cinders from a bunch of demi-gods?
i’m glimmering on my own, but the shining people blaze away in my memory.
someday, perhaps, they’ll tumble down into ashes, and the wind will blow them away forever.