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Empty Houses

In the little moments of conscious clarity, between muddled minds, huddled bodies and cluttered spaces of my everyday living, I keep going back to the time we met last and said our last goodbyes.

If I knew that you would move into the mist and be one with the fog and the darkening caves;
If I knew that the somersaults of your mind would exile me into the realms of the unknown, and that you would take my place, my face and my being in you
and consume it to an ancient memory …

Maybe I would have held you back a little closer.
Hugged you a little tighter, smelt you a little longer, allowed your entangled hairs to ease out of my fingers, a little slower.

Maybe, just maybe, I would have gone for that one last kiss...
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