I love walking alone

at night, especially on cold 

 November nights, thinking, hugging

myself from the cold wind and looking

up the dark sky.

We never had these walks. We walked

on summer nights with smoke and dust

and signal lights. We walked

slowly, just taking our time to lengthen

the distance to my house. Those walks

end our day. After the walk

was an uncertainty of when we’d see

each other again. But we wouldn’t

care about that. We’d talk

of nonsensical things that I

enjoyed the most. I

loved your voice. I

loved your laughter. I

loved your silence.

Later that night, you would call

me and we’d talk of nonsensical

things for an hour, I’d laugh at your

jokes and promises, and you’d

sing me a lullaby. We’d hang up our

phones and I’d be alone

again. I’d

turn off the light but I

wouldn’t sleep. I’d

look at the moon because you

said it was beautiful, and try

to count the stars,

guess which one’s a

star and which is a satellite, and assume that one of them is Venus or Mars.

I’d look at them and believe that you

were looking at them, too.

And I’d feel you’re close to me.

Two months later, I would be

one hundred and fifty

miles away from you,

and I’d think of you.

I would move my curtains and look

at the sky. The smoke

and some weird lights had turned

it to red and I couldn’t see any

star or satellite or the moon or Venus or Mars.

There was no way for us

to be together.

I moved somewhere

else where

I could see the

dark sky and the stars and satellites and the moon and Venus and Mars

once again. Still,

you’d be far

away.

Still,

I’m walking on this cold lonely

November night, thinking,

hugging

 myself from the cold wind and looking

up the dark sky. I still

look at the moon

because it’s still beautiful as it was

two years ago and as it has

always been, the stars are still

shining, I’m still

not sure which are just satellites and I still

do not know if I’ve seen Venus or Mars.

I’m trapped

in the past,

just

like how these objects are trapped

in the oblivion and had never changed.

It’s like how

things used to be and how

they had always been.

We are living in our past.

Somewhere,

whenever

I look at the

moon and the stars or satellites or Venus or Mars,

you may be watching

them, seeing how

things used to be for them and how,

for millions of years, they haven’t changed,

and thinking how

things used to be for us, and how

you’ve changed.

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First posted on my old old blog in November 2008