gwensarah and johanny
I made no mention of before
22:26 & 08 December 2002

His ghost peeps through the curtains gently whispering her name.
It hovers over crushed mementos trying to explain.
And maybe it takes 40 years of patience, swimming through the tears.
He'll guard her each and every lonely night.
Still the pictures flow through the night. No escape, no separation . . . Legendary Pink Dots

I should be taking a shower and getting ready for bed *not* sitting here writing an entry when I already wrote one today but here I am anyhow, listening to "Smoke and Mirrors" by the Magnetic Fields and wishing it were as simple as D. being a phone call away.

I want to talk to him about so many things, about Christmas lights reflected on the water, about my feelings for someone so very far out of reach, about the old photographs scattered upon my floor. I want to hear his voice, his laughter, him singing "If you need someone" to me in the still of night that descends just before dawn's first light streaks the sky.

Does he somehow know, I wonder? Do the spirits check in on us from time to time, chuckling at our misdeeds or feeling helpless at our sorrow? Those nights I've woken up because I think I feel something brush upon my face, could it possibly be that I do, did he and Morgan see through my eyes the night a song was sung for them..for us? Sometimes I like to think that my lost three are somewhere with music and a view of the world, throwing clues to where I should be. After all, there have been some things which cannot be explained, a little nudge here, a sign there.

And on these nights walking outside feeling the cold against my face, music in my ears, watching the stars; I realise how I want to believe. In love, in magic, in friendships which no time, distance or separation could ever alter. I can almost believe in shooting stars, in the beauty of fog patches, in the idea of three friends gathered together somewhere giving me a hug through the memories which pop into my head without warning.

Part of me reaches for the phone, to dial a familiar number hours ahead. To say, "I loved him then, right then, the moment I looked into those blue eyes. Without knowing his name or caring about anything outside of the smile which lit his face...and now years later I saw the same smile, the blue eyes tempered by age, wisdom, loss and experience and felt the same thing all over again. And it's impossible and silly but we could be happy. As happy as Softies songs, as happy as long ago train rides, as happy as a ferry ride holding hands, as happy as a long awaited gift."

But you know what? I think that where ever D. is, that he knows. That he understands my feelings far better than words could ever say were he here to talk to.

Hmmph, maybe pesky meddlesome friends can send dreams..my sister would say it's so. Heh, if that's the case I hope D. pops over to B1's and mixes his dreams along the same lines as mine have been.

i shouldn't write while I'm flying high on my medication for this pesky respitory ailment..as you can see, it's all so strange and odd.

Listening: Legendary Pink Dots, who I just realised I missed seeing because it was the same night as taking Rymer to go see Aberdeen and Trembling Blue Stars. Waaaaaaaaahhhhh, Edward Ka-spel come back come back!!!

previous & next