A blanket of black,
A comfort of lives long dead
And the stars breathe life.

A fleeting moment is what it was.
Back then, when you stayed the weekend at your not-yet dad’s house.

A simple question is asked,
“Do you want to move here?”

You were so tired, awake past your bedtime.
You had to get up before dawn to drive the hour back home with your mom.

You asked, “What do you mean?”
Excited at the choice, but scared to jump into a new school; a new life.

You always were, and still are, a recluse at heart.
But, the question was asked again and you said yes without much thought.

You never did fit in, but you never noticed.
Not until it was too late, but you never really cared.

And did you ever regret the move?
Well, you still live there, don’t you?

I remember watching your dark shadows of all different shapes and people, day and night, move across the landscape. I never knew your name.
I witnessed your worlds and dangers which only I could see and experience;
being buried alive in clouds of earth and rain isn’t nice you know.

You released a ripple inside my soul; wild; untamable; starving for my own flesh and blood and soul.
It did not take long for it to become a tsunami, an ephemeral disaster of reality’s true desire to end Humanity, breaking me again, and again, and again against the sharp cliffs of my patch-worked psyche.

I have no need to tame you. Not when you bring me such euphoria.
I have no desire to cease your wonderful, yet terrific cursed blessing of mine.

You allow the worlds I imagine, and the danger I make up, and the death I create flow from my mind and onto the pages I endlessly write in now. An addiction to the tsunami I can never be free of. An addict seeking the fix my mind gives you.

How does it feel now that I have become the ripple? The tsunami? I bet you’re starving to fuel this shared addiction of ours; your imagination to my reality.

So, what should I write next?

My Sunshine, I know it’s been a while.
I hadn’t have the time to see you.
I hadn’t have the time to listen to you,
Or watch you play.

My Sunshine, you’ll still light up my world when I see you next.
You’ll laugh like the tinkling drops of a sunshower against my dry skin.
You’ll sing like the scissortails playing across the grass fields of my lonely home,
Or you’ll give me gifts of hopeful flowers when I can’t bear to keep on marching.

My Sunshine, there’s no telling when we’ll see each other, maybe never again,
But wait for me one more day, one more week, one more hour. I’ll see you someday.