The Mimic
Hollow is my name. When we hug, I absorb all you have and play back the result sweetly and carefully, albeit not exactly. Wayward, brittle and shallow are words that mark me, yet they cannot define me as my love for you does.
Pain. I am not sure of how much longer I can endure the exquisite pain of being single. My soul wants to leave, but I convince myself I feel the warmth of your soul, my lover in all these calls and emails we send each other.
Holding back all the kisses I want to give is no fun behind the door of my humble flat. Deep blue whispers and sounds of cars taking off or arriving happen during my insomnia bouts. People fighting, people kissing; lives outside my door, but I don’t make a sound. You could say I hold my breath to listen to everything outside my door. Perhaps one day I shall welcome the sounds of our relationship again.
Text: © Orlando Barahona
Image: © Leandro Mocca/Flickr
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