I am on a beach in Cuba with you.
And there are sand granules on your face, somehow making it impossibly brighter, impossibly better. There is an endless sea of blues surrounding us, but my eyes are fixated on yours. A shade of blue I can never forget. My hand tries to seek out yours, as it had all those times. Times you would not know of because I asked you not to meddle in my head.
I am on a beach in Cuba with you.
And my hands are cradling your face. There is a forbidden sentence you want to say. I can see it on your face, my friend. I can see that you hide something – though what it may be, I can only guess. There are things I want to say as well, words that I thought I would never dare utter to anyone. But I look into your eyes and I know.
I am on a beach in Cuba with you.
And I know that whatever I have to say would be lost in the storm of torment inside your head. I know that whatever I say would haunt you forever, if not for much longer. I know that it is not what you want (even though it’s what my entire being desires).
I am on a beach in Cuba with you.
And I am drowning myself in words I thought I would never think of. Words I thought I would never feel. I’m drowning in these endless cacophonies of words that swirl inside my head like ghosts of my past. I am drowning in feelings I never thought I would feel up until I met you. Until I witnessed your careless smile. Your gentle words. Your sculpted face.
I am on a beach in Cuba with you.
And I am drowning.
Save me, my friend. For I am drowning. Again. And this time I am afraid I wouldn’t be able to rise up to the surface on my own. I am afraid I wouldn’t feel the caress of your mind on my thoughts. I am afraid I wouldn’t hear your ever so tender words. I am afraid I wouldn’t lose game after game of chess. I am afraid I wouldn’t hear your endlessly humane argument again.
I am afraid.
I am on a beach in Cuba with you.
And I am saying goodbye to whatever we had. To whatever we were.
You are on a beach in Cuba – alone.