Letter to no one

Dear friend,
From a multitude of nameless, featureless faces,
In between the no ones and the nothings,
Like a blessing,
Come you.
Out of nowhere you appear.
I open a door; you’re there.

Your effect so ambivalent is, though.
You see, the sight of you
Appeases me, fills me, lifts up my day
-and, boy, do my days need a lift-up.
Closeness to you…
But then I’m a junky.
All faces melt into yours.
All figures transmute into your leather-clad form.
And I open my eyes to see if I may catch a glimpse,
Neck twisted window-ward, craning at awkward angles, just in case…
But nope. No chance.
You’re gone.
(Hell. What a fuckin cliché).

We crossed paths today and something was amiss. Something was wrong:
Not the usual, casual JP with a wink and a smile.
Not the typical swish of your hair, as you throw it back to reveal glittering orbs.
What drained you today? Can I kick their ass? Can I buy you coffee? Do your laundry? Take you away?

How fucked am I!?
Like a diamond in a garbage bin I find you,
Like lilies upon a stone,
Like the sickness I’m in, oh these darkening days,
And then the clouds part ever so slightly,
To reveal one single, unique ray of light.

This city makes sense just because you’re in it. The rain’s function is for us to meet wet, so we can run inside and warm up together. These buildings are here only for me to run into you. When I do, I linger for just one reason alone.

These people around me don’t know what a joy writing is, because they never met you,
But on you I’d drain the last drop of ink of the last pen on this Earth.
Poor souls, that they’ll never know.
Poor me, that I’ll never show.

Dear friend, where did you run off to? What’s your location? Your destination?
Why can’t this clock tick faster? I know you’re out there.
When will I see you again?
Dear friend, how much can I long for what I cannot attain?

Rain falls in buckets.
The streets yield nothing, no one.
All tucked in and alone.
The rush is over and all faces seem pained somehow,
Like we suffer together, in silence.
Till next time.
Me.