Chéri

A soft hush settled over the theater, the houselights dimmed. I sat, just as when I was a child, and stared into the high ceiling, at the ornate decorations, imagined patrons 200 years ago settling into the rows to be, if only for a few hours, whisked away. I spent some time frowning at the lead's overacting, at the imperfect seams of music to whispered lines, at the restlessness of the audience, and then I was gone.

When we left the theater, people seemed to have a carefree look about them, as though they were already on to the next and wasn't it quite early on a Friday night and aren't we having a lovely time. I was certain my eyes betrayed me, that the tempest of my wrought insides played out on my face like I didn't know how to restrain my emotions. I thought Am I the only one who cannot handle being overwhelmed and hurried in the cold night to the small bar where bodies would soften my contours again.

There was a time I thought we could solve it all if only you needed me. There was a time I thought I would never tire if the bonds were only solid enough, great iron cables connecting my island to yours and we'd be safe.

It is not him I fear. 
It is his absence. 

How quickly youth fades
from us.