where do we go from here. i sway but do not move, concrete stuck. frozen. the night is old. you said you felt old. i feel old and young thinking that maybe i have been the same person for ten years at least, only bodies and coping mechanisms changing with seasons that no longer help me keep track of time. the other night it was too hot and we were not talking as i stood and sipped a drink not strong enough listening to a cover band as someone gave advice to another saying "what you need is a game changer". i don't think i changed anything. there is a weight on my chest in the shape of absences. carve me a train tunnel to your insides so i can catch a peek before the light comes hurling forward blinding any hints you give to what is happening. the dark isn't where the fear is, it's the light that signals warnings through the atmosphere before we crash crash bam. this is the only collision i was never prepared for. i spent three years making little wrecks in the outlines of others bodies. the sting means it is healing and we go on. this sting spreads like fire in a drought. i bleed all over everything you touched and refuse to stop pulling the stitches out because at least then i see physically where you once were. gone.