StasisThat deep pull that aches in your chest when you take a breath and hold it.
That feeling of being full, with just air, that's not littered with awkward silences or harsh words. No pillow talk or silver tounges reaching down your throat, no candy kisses or sugar coats.
No gasping and scraping through your chest with surgical precision, sweet marbled slices and clumsy incisions, to fiddle with your innards and clutch that beating piece of meat in your sternum, just to hold it as you hold your breath and wait for whatever happens next.
That relaxing release when you exhale and let go, like melting away your weight in gold, you re-center as you re-enter the earth, that pause, in-between, I am not dead and I am not staying alive just yet. Like blowing a steady breath upon a candle flame to watch it neither burn out or go up in flames, just to keep the heat and watch that wax bead, like playing dead in the water just to feel yourself float.
The last thing I'll see is black and stars, as if the universe was giving me, back to myself.
I like to feel the bend and curve of time I run my fingers along it's spine as if I could close my eyes and read what happens next, as if it were a braille text. I feel the points in time that pierce like needles, pin the pages together wherever it feels, the poignant moments that we never hold, because things only become valuable when time unfolds; it's centrefolds grow tenfold. Moments forever fleeting, forever flows, the what-if's the what-could-have-been's; shadows flickering on the pages, shifts, doubles and rips.
The lapse against my naked feet, the sands between my toes, I'm hanging on the edge, the wax beads tighten,
my shadow grows; upon the pages of my books, the pins and needles in my fingertips
this moment never comes again, it stands still, I float.
Words by stef lai
Read 167 times
Written on 2020-04-24 at 16:32
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