Pier 361
rating: +9+x

There is a sort of melancholy in the air today. Dark storm clouds rumbling on the horizon with whispers of rain on the wind.
The weight we thought we escaped ever present, ever looming, though far in the distance for now.

We had driven together through roads unknown - Past the stock yards and call boxes you checked off your map one by one.
Past the suburbs and graveyards and the forest depths where the wild things lurk. Past the coastal drive where the sun sets red and the sands cast gold. Onto the road out of the wilderness and into the city far from home.

You've changed, Grief. From a festering wound into a clouded mind. An embodiment of guilt turned to one of stark sadness. You're not the cause of the melancholy today but rather a bystander to it. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you can remain a passenger for a little while longer.

How I grew used to your absence for the past few years that it's strange to see you again - faded, for sure, but present. Ghostly. Barely clinging on and clawing your way back. But calmly. Not feverishly. As you know a place at the head of the table will be set for you - you're inevitable, eternal - so there's no need to rush. It's just becomes a question of how soon you dine.

So you join me, on the pier tonight. I'm watching streetlights flicker in the fog, the unsung melody of hopes and dreams flittering between them. I know if I wait the fog will clear and I'll find what I'm searching for, but the nights are always darkest before the dawn. Long stretches of time pass where I'm not sure if your company is appreciated or not. You're familiar, comforting, but not a companionship built to last.

It's this dance, you and I. Back and forth, to and fro, but I never learned to follow a rhythm, to flow with the music and let the thoughts pass. Our dance is more of an inordinate pacing, understimulated, unbecoming, and how we make a fool of ourselves.

I'm waiting again, to be forgotten, as at least then it's easier to let go, to be lost within the night. You and I, traveling once more, as we always have, seeking out new opportunities to grow the facade we've been building to secure the darkness that lies beneath the waves. You and I, consumed by the ambivalent twilight, bound as the hound that's loyal to none. You and I, how we hide behind it, our guarded walls, without the knowledge to run free.

You and I, how abrupt is the end?

Let our dreams remain unsung.

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