City lights a-fading. That's how the view is from here. I watch as the thirsty faces seek to fill their hollow hearts and I see their hollow eyes bleed tears. Where would they seek solace for their lonely souls? The loud music causes an echo in the depth of their bodies. It scares a lot of them how quick this moment of slight pleasure that tingles their happy nerve will fade, and then they are left alone, hearing the echo of their own voices calling out for someone to hear them. My own heart turns and I feel it shrink to hide under my belly. It fears something real and raw.
I close my eyes as the music gains an auditory strength that shuts all things out. I retreat back to the space where no one can touch and I look around. Does love live within me?
See her run, she runs after love. But she runs not for love himself, she runs for the pleasure she may gain when she possess love. Love runs from her, for her pursuit of him is but artificial, she is unwilling to sacrifice for love himself. She is after his gifts. The pleasure, the romance, and when she exhausts the very well love himself is, she moves on. She sits in despair for she understands not, love must be obtained not for his gifts, love must be sought for the sake of himself. Love himself.
She closes her eyes as the music gains an auditory strength that shuts all things out. She is unable to retreat for she knows not how. Her heart has shut out all things good while shutting out all things bad. The calloused wounded entity in her chest cannot shout out its loneliest cries, the ones she screams silently in the darkest pain. It is heard not. Not by her, not by anyone. She continues to run, but she stands still. Motionless in motion.
I watch her light her fourth cigarette in such an urgency as if in it she would finally obtain a certain answer. I watch her kiss him with such an abandonment as if in him she would find a certain salvation. I watch her down her alcohol with such a thirst as if in it she would find a certain joy. I watch. I watch. I watch her give herself to him with such passion as if in it she would find a certain love. Love stands still watching.
I watch her light her fifth cigarette. Her hollow eyes searching around for something. Something is missing. She placed her palm on the face of him who lay beside her and sighed. His hand ran up and down her thighs as he sighed. The morning makes us see more clearly. The night of abandonment to each other had done less than fill the chasm within the each of them. The feel of another's skin on their naked bodies did nothing but make them feel completely used, they feel completely cheated for when morning came and as they looked at each other they only saw hollowness in the other. Nothing glorious such as love. Nothing sweet such as joy. Nothing fulfilling such as wholeness. And they thought the revelry was supposed to fill the deep chasm of emptiness.
I sighed a sigh that only can be sighed from a pain that is born so deep within my being. I watched. City lights a-fading. That's how the view is from here. I watch the thirsty faces seeking to fill their hollow hearts and see their hollow eyes bleed tears. I watch without them waiting. I stand about them waiting. I nudge them but that which concerns them blinds them and they heed me not. I am dying. Dying to tell them. Something is missing, she looks. She laughs. I touch her beautiful face and look at her eyes, and then wait until she turns to see me.
Of course something is missing.
I am outside her.
