Skinned

It is around the summer time when people begin to either get too distanced, like the space between the stars; or they become so close that they almost begin to be the same, no identity of their own.

So I told you because there was a time you understood the intensity of the situation and knew how hard I was going to get struck by the bulldozer. Now I keeping striking into walls and concrete, which give me bruises and skinned knees. You and I were different, so very different. Belonging to unique worlds, far apart like Mercury from Neptune. Then we got so intimate and close that the only separation between you and me was that sheet of air, that always remains. Who knew this air, that unknowingly existed, could expand and blow us further away.
There is that kindness of yours that I miss. The way you would find sorrow in my soul and make it disappear, by only accepting it as yours. There is something about that time, that seduces me into reliving the bygones.
Let bygones be bygones?

The rataplan of the rain against your window makes the heart's slow rhythm accelerate. Lub dub, lub dub, in a faster pace. More blood rushes through your veins and arteries. The hidden words eloquently said. You wait.
You wait, till the sadness mixes equally into your system. The pattern of the rhythm begins to decelerate, then turns to normal and then a little lesser than normal. Vivid melancholy now strolls into your veins and arteries. There is no more wait.
Just the acceptance of what is to come.
How can one let go off the future?

The heart wishes not to feel any more. The mind makes you see premonitions in which you are shooting yourself. What if you don't feel the wind that touches your skin and gives you goosebumps. The red heart turns to ashes and ashes fly around like they never existed.