I sat for hours, waiting for you to arrive at my door. My door ached, as it stood there open for hours, in anticipation. Every step that reached us, sent a wave of excitement in our hearts, but you were not there, and that wave crashed in disappointment. But not for a moment did hope recede. Sometimes, I would take a break, make some coffee and sit by the door again. As I sipped my coffee, I would see people pass us by, men, women, children, busy, unaware of what was going around them, lost to the world outside. I would see a couple argue, or sometimes giggle after saying something silly into the other’s ear, lest someone else hear. I would long for that, anything, a fight, a cuddle, a whisper, an argument, anything that could take place between us, if only you were here. You were gone once, but you promised you will return again, and again and again. Each goodbye you said will hold a promise of a new meet and of a sweet embrace again. You said that a bye should not end in a cry. That I should carry on like you never went; that you are always here, around me somewhere. But sometimes, the make belief gets hard to live with. You said technology makes us weaker, but I thought at least it keeps us closer. I still have your letters, but why did you stop writing? You with all your ideas, had me impressed, but my ideas baffled you no less. We were of different worlds. It was easy to see, you liked the wind. I preferred the sea. I remember our chat, when we discussed what would we rather be? A bird of flight or a fish of the sea, while you chose wings, I voted for fins. But you said we could see each other, nonetheless, you would come to the waters and rest there awhile, and we would begin a forbidden romance, of the sea and the land. Oh such sweet trespasses we spoke of then, and of those we loved, both women and men. Sometimes I fear that you are lost to the world, a casualty of the brutality that inflicts us so. All these thoughts then fill me with pain, and I wish then why can’t we both be just ash and dust again. Lying together till time itself dies, or blown by wind together, to clearer blue skies. Now my doors are tired and night comes with rain, I will go back to my bed and wait to go back to the chain. The chain of life, the cycle of pain, of waiting and of longing, to see you again. I do not sleep with tears, but they threaten to come, I calm myself down, the task is tiresome. And while the disappointments of the day are too much to take, at least we can meet in my sleep, you by the land with your feathers rested on your side and me by the water, my fins fighting against the tide. And in that brief slumber, we are reunited forever, till we become ash and dust again.