Fingers dance, dainty, along the ivory.
It’s happening.
Music swells into a shape. A structure. A bridge between now and then. A bridge that clears a path back to that moment. Forms a capsule that transports me back to then, back to that time.
That old life from two months ago. A life that waltzed away into the sparkling sunset. Heyday that glittered into ash. That moment before it all changed, before it got so complicated, so dark and difficult.
It was never meant to get this complicated.
My thoughts used to make sense. Time used to make sense.
Nothing makes sense anymore. Not since then.
Feel the humming in my chest now, reverberating sound that starts to overtake me. Born from deep inside, it expands and grows until it exists outside my body. Faint glowing aura surrounds me, the shadow of the person I was.
If I close my eyes, I feel it. The life I had. The freedom I had.
Feel my arms reach out to grab hold of it. Step into it. A shower of relief washes over me. My body is like a canvas, thick brushstrokes of calm are painted down my back. Tension melts away. It drips from my hips, down the legs of the seat beneath me. Collects in a puddle at my feet, colours seeping into the floorboards.
Crescendo. Notes are dancing, whirling around me now. Like dragonflies buzzing, a steady cadence of synchronicity. Feel their fluttering inside me.
Eyes slide close, my gaze falls inwards as reality starts to fracture.
It’s happening. The disconnect.
My body remains in place, but I escape. Lighter than this world, I float above it all. I rise higher and higher, up into the sky. Settle on a starry arch, comforted, enveloped by the night’s endless darkness. Blurry city lights below me, I watch them flickering, pulsing in time with the music. Constant motion. In perfect harmony.
She wanted to be up here. Whirling amongst the stars. I couldn’t take her here. To the heights she wanted to reach.
I float higher. Move on.
Away and away and back to then.
I see her now.
She is not here.
But I see her.
Green, almost yellow eyes, like the sun. She’s dancing somewhere. Prisoner to the rhythm. Bound to it, like Stockholm Syndrome. Refuses to escape it. Will not return. Dancing forever. With that beaming, unburdened smile. Melodic laughter, effortless, like a chorus of angels. Reflection of strobelight glimmering in her highlighter. Hair unkempt. Messy. Just like her. Messy and perfect. I remember now that her eyes always followed me, as those of a painting do. Feel them on me now. Warming me.
Mouth watering, I can smell her. Texture in the smell. Hint of something else. Could never quite place it, but it drew me in. Kept drawing me in. Like a flower you can’t help but bring to your nose. Again and again.
Enchanted me. As if my senses instinctively knew that every other smell would fall flat beside this one. A pinnacle never to be reached again.
So I inhale it now. Deeper. Deeper. Memorise the taste, the feeling, the feeling of that smell. Like I’m trying to become it.
Diminuendo. Softening. Slowing. Fading. Falling back to reality. Ground arrives beneath me.
Meaningless, empty applause hurts my ears. Fills me with nothing. The stage lights are so bright they burn my eyes. I search the crowd for her. She’s not here. I know she’s not here. She can’t be. But. Maybe?
Muscles in my face twitch from the effort of my plastic smile. Drop it as soon as I’m in the safety of the wing, settle back into a frown.
The craving begins again. Little, growing niggling rising from somewhere inside. Stronger and stronger, shifting when I try to scratch it, alerting me to the fact that I am missing something.
A hunger that cannot be satiated. Longing for something that cannot be replicated. Longing for a moment. For a feeling. For her.
It’s later now. A dark room. Dripping walls.
Ears thumping with the blasting bass, bringing motion to the shadows around me.
Strangers moving in unison, a mass of wide-eyed, slack-jawed bodies. Watch them embrace each other with loving hugs. They seem distant, very distant, but I feel their sweat flickering onto my arms.
I press down on the can in my hand. Palms enjoy the satisfying crackle of aluminium, before I run my thumb over the flattened surface, a texture comforting in its smoothness.
I can’t concentrate on the music. Out of sync, the rhythm dances out of reach. Signals are delayed. My feet catch the cue too late. By the time I get there, the music has moved on.
Moved on. She’s moved on. Away.
It doesn’t feel right. It’s not the same. Not without her. My throat twists around itself, like a snake around a branch. Wringing sensation that grows tighter with every spiral.
I escape outside, seeking oxygen to loosen the grip at my throat. Receive, instead, a lungful of stale, second-hand smoke. Better than nothing. The smoking area is loud with laughter, the thick haze of nicotine illuminated by tungsten lights. Their glow reflects off the sticky floor, decorated by butts and spilt liquids.
I stalk the corners like a ghost. People don’t notice me, look right through me, too engrossed in writing their own stories. My bubble of loneliness garbles their voices, echoing whispers, underpinned by static, like a radio stuck between channels.
I think now of how her voice shimmered out of her mouth. Pulled me in like a magnet. Bewitched me with its promises. Engulfed me in its softness. Lifted my head from my shoulders and sent it spinning around the room.
Difficult to replicate, impossible to capture. I have tried and tried. The harder I try, the more the sound eludes me. Muddied by time. I’m forgetting it. Only when I play that one song does the sound come to life. Come back to me.
When did it get so difficult?
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Not since then.
My thoughts don’t make sense anymore.
They escape down winding tangents. Trudge heavy footsteps through the graveyard of memories. Thick, spindly roots creep out from the graves, slithering on the ground towards me. Twist around each other in their eagerness to grab me. To lure me into them.
Sparking enticement from the hole in my chest, a tugging that reaches back to them. Begging them to take me, drag me, lay me down in the comfort of numbness.
It was never meant to get this complicated.
Nattering of bathroom conversations. Graffiti-covered walls absorbing grave, sweeping declarations of love. These vows, safe in the cramped cubicles, are professed in voices heavy with sincerity and slurred by substances. I splash some icy water onto my face. Tiny shock to my brain, a minute tremble that grounds me somewhat.
I need to stay focused. Cannot be drawn in by the assurances of temptation. Must not be misled by the hollow hopes that I can go back there.
I can’t. She’s gone. Moved on. Can’t bring her back.
Dab my face clean with my sleeves, looking at my reflection in the dirty mirror. My eyes are dull, vacant. Behind them, regrets loom like shadows around a body of unmoving water, tears that I refuse to cry. Reflective surface of glistening stagnation. The pool grows deeper, mossier. It is polluted by the decay of dormant potential drowned within it.
Craving builds, clamps its gaunt, spindly fingers around my shoulders. Breathes muttered assurances into my ears.
She can come back.
Just briefly. Just once.
One last goodbye.
Doesn’t need to be difficult.
Doesn’t need to get complicated.
Doesn’t have to make sense.
Back to the music now.
Await the rush, the feeling, the euphoria that will rip through my chest, tearing me in two. Lose awareness of my body. I lie back. My arms, bleached twigs, fall away from my torso. Take on a life of their own. Swirling shapes into the air. Eyes flutter closed. A swelling from beneath ripples the length of me.
It’s happening.
I give up control, let the waves take me. Feel their icy touch. It’s shocking, but not unpleasant. Blurry lights of the city in the distance. Feel her velvet skin as her smooth hands caress me. I lean into it.
Release control. Fading. Swelling. It’s happening. Fading. It takes me. The rhythm.
And finally, I’m lost.
Dancing.
Dancing again.
