The rain is falling at the foot of my bed and I am lying on my nervous stomach, mentally separating  the raindrops; the happy from from the sad.

Some come and sit on my palm, some scatter away against my pillow, making patterns that stay even many years later. 

Somewhere down the road, the trees block the path.

At such a place, people wonder for a bit and then walk away. They make quiet conversations that no one know of. They look confused. Their journeys are cut short.

I climbed that tree with you and we watched the world go by. We couldn't get past, but we created a little trip for ourselves.

I sat there, my arm wrapped around your neck and my eyes sparkling. That minute felt like a long while; one that I wanted to re-live over and over again.

The next time people complained of the road block, I turned away and smiled into the sun. 

The roads all end in the same little clearing at the edge of the apparent world.

We are all there. We are all a part of something seemingly big. We are holding hands and looking doe-eyed at the sky.

There's a stiff wind and the abyss not too far away is cloaked in a fog as thick as you wouldn't even imagine. I half expect people to take pictures. But they don't. We aren't those people anymore. We are older, wiser, calmer.

My palms are sweating a little and there's a strange little flutter somewhere deep within me. I shut my eyes tight and open them again. The ground beneath me slips a little. Then a little more. Then it's like we are on roller skates in a surreal little skating rink.

There's darkness. It's over. It really is. 

Disconnected statements and half baked emotions all line the edges of my bed.

They are living, breathing things that speak with each other. Or so I like to believe. Everything I think and feel comes and stands around me. It's easier to put it together that way, when you think of these things as entities and not just whims of your tired mind.

It's like having a curious slumber party. People sitting at the edge of your bed, telling stories, asking questions. It's like being with a delightful mix of people who may not know each other but know you and, possibly, like you as well.

I shut my eyes at some point, listening to snippets of conversations and voices.

Later, I try writing. It doesn't necessarily come out in a flawless manner, but I have more fun than I   do otherwise.

My heart is in your blue bag.

It jumps up and down with anxiety. It goes wherever you take it. It peeks at you with big, watery eyes.

The blue bag with the white stripes. The one you take shopping. The one which ripped last night when it couldn't contain everything you pushed into it.

There's rubble and broken pieces of your things. You can try and piece them together but you might cut your hand. 

Fall asleep and find yourself in a city that isn't quite your own.

With pots with mirrors and drinking water in an urn the colour of earth. 

With women with thin, fluid waists and long shining hair. And men with thick eyebrows and cloth hats.

The sky there is a deep blue, like watching water take you over from above. The stars aren't out yet, but I can only imagine how overwhelming it will be to watch them from where I stand.

 I walk around, taking in the trees, the kids and the noises that fill this mysterious place

I am asleep but I am also awake. 

The air is thin and tense. It's as though you've held your breath and are waiting for something to happen.

The stars were knotted in your hair, while you stood against the sky. I couldn’t even see your eyes; just dark pools lighting up now and then.

The clouds were thick and stormy and the trees didn’t quite hold their own. They swayed, as though possessed by a greater force, from end to end. You stood still, though. Untouched and uncaring.

Somewhere through the night, the rain came down in anger. It drenched us to our bone. The stars washed away from your hair. Your eyes leaked sparkling water.

You kept going further and further until you disappeared. I moved towards you, panicking, but you were gone.

Perhaps you hid behind a tree, or maybe you became a glowing blob of molten matter up ahead in the distance. You weren’t there. You were never there.