Today I felt the weightlessness of wheels up; the helplessness of only being able to see right or left, but not ahead.
I looked out the window trying to be present with what is, feeling the plane jostle right and left, up and down; knowing that my life had changed with those wheels up.
I finally left.
The weightlessness of this life doesn't include you but you still show up in my dreams; haunting me through memories of touch and realities of silence and the ache in my stomach that is only caused by thoughts of you. You come to me when I lay restless, zoning out on documentaries. This unfamiliar bed feels so big, as if my body can't seem to land from the wheels up moment; like the ground I once felt in your arms is gone forever.
Because I finally left.
She used to tease me about my darting eyes. They dart to the right or left. And in their darting, they always seemed to find you. You, however, always look down. Or up. Or in. But never in my direction. And now, as I can only look right or left with what is, with the back and forth movement of this hurling forward leaving, my gaze feels empty and blank. I imagine this is what you see as you are always leaving. Nothing. Which is why you can always leave without leaving and why I can always stay without staying.
But I finally left.
Lightning brightens the dark skies and I tense up with fear. This wheels up story is so different than the old one; the one you commanded; the one with the ground and the noise of subtle, quiet, San Francisco rain. This story is loud with thunder and the ache of my jostling body. So I lay here, breathing in the recycled air... The air that has gone in and out of so many lungs, but has never even touched your lips... The air that reminds me that all I can do is to keep moving forward with these wheels up.
Because I finally fucking left.
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