Talk to me of the sunrise that left in its wake blood trails across the sky, of the waves that stole away grains of sand, of the black rocks that sprayed salt. Talk to me in the language we devised, made of words, gestures and glances, touch, smell and memory.
Tell me you thought of me as you stood there, conversing with me in your mind, alone but not lonely. Tell me stories of childhood, of pain and regret, of loss and hurt. Tell me because I want to think I can wipe them away.
Ask me to smile with my eyes, to capture joy and hold laughter captive.
Show me corners in my heart that I didn’t know could ache, beauty I didn’t know was possible, the freedom I want to taste in your embrace, the fear that comes from feeling too much too soon.
Come with me on a train journey, the world a blur in our window, the moon our companion, trees as big as our thumb.
I will be your fellow passenger, as we navigate terrains that are dry and prickly as cactus, steep and slippery like sea side cliffs, occasionally meeting rivers and waterfalls and hills that are alive in ways we can never be.