That’s it. I have no more words. No more tears. No more feelings. Nothing. I have nothing.
No,
What’s left are regrets, emotional scars, and the never ending question: Who am I?
But they add up to nothing. Am I, perhaps, nothing? But I have created, I have produced, I have felt.
I don’t feel like telling you good-by. I don’t care for you, nor do I wish to see you again. Please. Thank-you. I’m sorry. Nothing.
I’m leaving. You’re leaving. We don’t know each other. We didn’t know each other. No need for good-by. No need for words. Nothing.
In my mind, it is like this. We sit on a bench. We look: our eyes smile. You touch my knee. I touch your heart. The sunshine in your mouth. (Light makes no sound.)
You get up. I walk away. The eye-contact remains. A thread of vision. The wind blows lightly. The thread wavers in the breeze, but it remains. I turn and it wraps around my head.
I exit the dream. Pure, unhurt. Peaceful and content. There is no thing besides the thread. Nothing.
