By Michael SixtoThe bench

You have walked the earth with me. We both together know the meaning of this moment. The music is about to stop and I don’t want to go to bed; not yet. I have a collection of memories that hang from the ceiling, desperately, uncertain of their future. There is nothing I can do, at least that’s what they said and you agreed; you always do. You have walked the earth with me and your shadow has been the only real instance of a touch. I am not allowed to say more, in any case, that wouldn’t change anything. We complemented each other while sucking each other’s blood, like desperate vampires holding to their lives in a world without humans. No, we are not humans, not anymore. For a long time we knew this truth and repellently walked the earth not looking for hope, but redemption. Two is a magical number, so I was told, and nevertheless futile. I don’t blame you; I blame myself for holding your hand for so long. I blame myself for making you believe that it was our moment, when our moment was long time gone. I guess I didn’t know, I guess I was afraid to walk the earth by myself. Your smile still lingers here mixing all these feelings while my pale face slowly vanishes, I did not see it coming, not this time. I am not sure if we’ll endure what was left behind, but for good or bad… we have walked the earth together and I am grateful for that.