What will become of us when we walk away from this moment, each taking a different road away from here? We met and took each other as a companion to keep the cold and dark of the night away, hiding together under these sheets. Now, though, the dawn has come and we must stumble from this bed and find our way, each back to our own lives.
We each have separate worlds, worlds that go around in their own orbits. We may never have a chance to meet again, when those worlds collide, to shelter together in each other’s arms against the storms our lives hurl at us.
We look away from each other as we slip back into those clothes that will separate us once more; you glance across with a smile of regret for what has passed. We both look down at the bed that seems to have already forgotten us, despite the history of our movements together left in those crumpled sheets. Sheets that will be taken by anonymous hands to have the memories of our moments washed out of them.
We do not speak of what might have been, because there is no road that leads off from this crossroads that we can walk down hand-in-hand. We do not talk of last night because already it becomes more like a dream. One of those dreams that makes you pause and smile wistfully, with the cup halfway to your lips, or as the dawn breaks through to take away the darkness.
I stand shrugged inside my coat at this crossroads to watch you walk away, back to your own life, before I too turn to walk away, to walk back to mine. Now, though, it is a world that seems somehow, strange, alien, as though I left my real life back there on those anonymous sheets with you.
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