flight.


I watched him silently as he sat by my window. Gently, he turned around to look at me. With the same curious, caution eyes, he watched back at me. I could not express the thousand thoughts running through my mind. They say when a man is silent, he is listening to you; when a woman is silent, a thousand thoughts are running through her mind.

He was listening to me, to the thousand thoughts running through my mind. His smile was slow, as if it was something delicious and enigmatic. His eyes were bright, clear, almost as if to show the fortitude present in his mind. He was strong, brave and uninhibited. He stretched out his hand, as if to invite.

‘Fly with me’, he said.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. Words are but superficial, useless representations of my thoughts; and how could he understand? But he did. Without instruction, my hand reached out in response to his outstretched hand. I could not fathom the extreme fear I had at my own foolish and folly. I was bold, crazy, and fervent. I wanted to pretend, but I could not. For in front of him, I was bare and exposed, without any defense. He saw straight through the front I had so painstakingly tried to put up in vain to protect my weak, senseless self. Slowly, the night began to engulf me; it swallowed me whole; my loneliness, my sadness, my mindlessness. I was slowly being eaten away; yet it is with relish that I remember that beautiful aftertaste; it left a lasting memory on my tongue.

He gently covered his hand over my eyes. His hand was large and warm; his fingers long and rough. As his palm slowly covered my line of sight, I felt surrounded by a feeling of assurance. He knew. It was the same feeling I had felt before; when I was protected, when I mattered to someone.



The night always seems so inviting.
I knew if I flew with him,

I would be gone forever.