Charulata

I love a vastness that holds nothing. The absence of the buzz in the air, the lack of hums in my heart. There is no more rhythm in my words. As long as I am absent in your space, when there is no room for me in your consciousness, I regard myself as nothing. In fact, I have just stated a contradiction. There is no ‘self’ in nothing, there is no object in nothing. So the days that pass, when I don’t cross his mind, I don’t exist. When he doesn't interact with me, I don’t exist. Or do I exist ? Am I simply neglected ? Seen as redundant and not even worth observation ? I cannot decide which one is worse. I miss the slight empirical experiences with you. Covered with a screen. Even at a distance, I was acknowledged as a self, studied, understood, accepted, identified as another self, on a plane no other has shown me. You have filled my senses with art, shown my soul love it could not keep, and you have left my body to disgusting delights. You were someone I wanted to keep inside a heart shaped locket sewn around my neck, and filthy hands could never get near its radiance. It would be mines to keep, beating above my heart, below my lips, where you and I would finally meet.