TWO WORLDS

Blooming flowers. Tender smiles.

Your hand lightly caressing my face

As I sit next to you.

I look over at you and smile.

 

“Where to begin?” I wonder.

Your voice, crystal clear,

Melodiously rings through the air.

“At the beginning of course, silly”

 

Eyes ablaze, smile threatening to tear your face apart,

Hanging on to every single syllable 

That comes out of my mouth.

Listening.

 

“The day started off good,” I tell you.

You look at me with that expression.

The very same one you had

On that very day.

 

“I got you flowers”, I say.

We smell them together - almost bitterly sweet.

I lie down and look up at the stars

And you join me, carefree. Free.

 

I continue. You listen,

Cautious with your replies.

They grow softer and softer,

And I look over to see your gentle figure asleep.

 

I walk back to that cold, white bed.

The room looks lifeless, 

The colours seemingly non-existent; monochrome,

With wires as my only distraction.

 

I look around again,

Heart thumping, eyes threatening to overflow.

My throat constricts, my brain rushes, taking control

Faster than my body can comprehend my actions, 

I close my eyes.

 

Too many wires. They close in 

Until they surround my imagination,

Threatening to tighten their unwavering grasp on me.

Fists clenched, palms sweating, but wait-

Beeping. Sound. Hope.

 

My shivers quieten as my jaws unclench

As I look up, hoping to be witness

To a miracle. And I do.

Only sometimes, hope is short-lived.

 

I sit on the edge of the cold-hearted white,

And gently caress your face.

Your eyes flicker; my heart stops.

Just when my eyes seem to lose the fight

To refrain from blinking,

Yours opens, just that tiny fraction.

 

A surge of warmth rushes through me,

As I give my eyes respite- that one millisecond

In which they shut and open, 

I lose you.

 

An angel seems to rise up

Filling the room with light and a feeling I can’t describe.

Love, you seem to call it. Unconditional happiness.

 

The anger, pain, sorrow, pity.

You would’ve hated it.

But I can still feel you here with me.

I saw you rise up, but yet I still sit here

On the grass, by the sign with two figures on it.

Numbers. Years. A timeline, perhaps.

 

The flowers I bring you everyday

Remain in position - some withered, some thriving.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever feel lonely,

Stuck inside that box,

No sunlight reaching you.

 

But then I remember, 

As the wind blows through my hair

And the birds sing their sweet songs,

That you’re right next to me.

Only, in a different world.

 

The door that separates us

Remains locked.

But I know, someday,

I’ll find the key

That reunites us again.