You are always in my forever – and that’s where you’ll stay, eyes wide awake to the sounds of laughter, there in the tiny room, hidden in the never ending passage of my mind. Now my head spins as I lie awake restless, intoxicated by the scented wax burning, my mind numb by the constant flash of imagery that my phone brings. And I remember a time when the pictures meant something, when they were memories we never thought of losing, moments we hid away from the world so they can forever be ours – moments that made us cry, that made us shiver, the ones that bound us together.
And in those moments I thought I was you, I felt the pain too. It burned through me as it burned through you. And for a time I thought we would stay there, in the passage, in its forever – in its never ending hollow that smelled of cigarettes and old paperbacks, in a tiny room, blank from its white walls, through the late nights and early hours, creating a vivid picture where we could remain forever. But we danced too long and fought too hard – now my head spins from the fractured part of my body, where I kept you quietly. And I can still see you there if I close my eyes, with your head buried between poetry, there by the window you sat, never turning to see the sunlight.
Now I’m miles away from that passage where we used to sneak through and found my soul lost in a city without you. And I sit here alone in this apartment block, within its white walls that stare at me, that suffocate me. And I wonder if this was the dream – or if we wanted it had we known we’d be forever apart.
Photography by Jeff Simone