Will she be back before the morning wakes me, glowing through, burning through the fleshy gauze of my eyes to warm my body and rest my mind? And when will she be back, that I can feel her again as I remember? This strange situation whereby I follow in her shadow, treading again and again over my own footsteps like the rat who crawls within my wall shut in by 10 years starvation and what that does to the muscles of an animal like that. I feel so silly right now. It's almost as though I never left this spot at all. I've been here so long and it's only noon.

But if I don't see her, I have this message for you. Can you take it? I want her to know that when I look into her eyes I can only see the truth. She's the kindest person I've ever met. So many others are mean, and they could never treat me the way she does. It's amazing to think that I met someone like her, if only for the time that we did. It's amazing to think that such an instance as that could touch me so deeply, my stupid mind reeling from the experience, my kitestring spine flying off in the wind beneath my head-hollowed cranium over fields of storm and gray skies and only the deepest joy - this love beyond flesh which I feel for her and for everything and everyone in this wide world. I feel love that no one can even imagine. If she's ever back I will focus this love, all this love, on her. Beyond her flesh, between every part of her, up her twisted stairs and behind her tearducts and the pores of her skin. We will not speak, but sit at the window and dream of a flesh love that never comes.

The sky is getting dark now, like the spilled ink of an inkwell at an unlighted and unattended ancient desk the clouds wash in and linger where they've poured. I am preparing my things. I have a big day today. A big night. My work is all in order.