this big sexy regret machine

  The feel of her skin on my lips stayed with me. It was something so lost. Delicate, tender. My breath shortened at the very thought. Though, now, cold plumes of my breath came from my mouth. The town was cold and unlit. The darkness once again surrounded me, beckoning me into its unsafety. The gravel crunched. A light wind tugged at my cloak. Strength coursed through my tired bones. My rucksack chugged behind me. It was a dialogue of dark uncertainty between us. I kept thought that I would come back to her close. I would go, find him, and come back. Closure was all that was needed now. I knew I didn’t have long left. So, I walked on. I had to. The wicked determination fought with the longing for touch. No unity was found. A stone archway was a portal to the mountains. I passed it without thought. The idea shook through me to my old heart. He had been here. He had known I was here. He had sought me out, and now, the circle will be complete again. When had the last full moon been, ...

  A wooden fire pit kept the lonely stone walls warm. Her house was one of those cast away from the path, just on the outskirts of the already remote village. Her axe stayed hooked by the door. The space was open, the floorboard crafted from a fine pinewood. Deep, warm walls. The smell of firewood. Unlit candles praying to secluded shrines and poets. A kitchen, filled with utensils of all sorts, shone in the setting sun. Silver glittered against the grey stone walls. A window was well placed, looking beyond the station, deep into the empty green plains of this faraway place. The cold had begun to come in with the fading sun. Chopped wood lined the back wall. We sat goatskin-and-leather pillows, fluffed with geese feathers. After the wooden train, my joints relaxed, my muscles unwound and breathed. The herbal tea kept my ungloved hands warm. She sat opposite me, across the sparking pit. My eyes stayed on her. Inside of the stone cabin, and during the setting of sun, our age showed. ...

  The train was covered in moss. The potted plants rattled and clinked together as the countryside rushed by. I paid them not much mind. My head was elsewhere. Some were suspended from the ceiling, swinging safely and serenely. Those reminded me of my charms. They gently swung in rhythm. Other plants filled the seats. There were no two duplicates. I was the only humanoid between them. The entire botanica stayed to their own, overlapping like a family giving welcoming hugs. They were all healthy, not a mottled or yellowed leaf in any of them. Flowers blossomed in the grassy carpet of the floor. The bright, late-summer sunlight shone through the open windows, bathing the plants in tender warmth. I wondered if the plants would ever disembark. Their smell was fresh and close, and welcomed by my lungs. No better blessing than air, new and given. The evergreen leaves matched the wooden walls of the carriage. The journey passed quickly. I sat in a peaceful, breathable silence. The far, gr...

  ‘They are like you,’ I am told. ‘Exactly the same, probably a few inches shorter. You are, to them, a suit of armour,’ I didn’t like this analogy one bit. Why was I protecting something so shadowy and reclusive? The letter read on. Rytt, the only reason I read on, continued, ‘I knew who it was, as soon as we met. I did not understand it, but I knew there was something more than just you. Do not hear me wrong, but, we have come to far together for something like this, don’t you think? We were trying to touch something that neither of us knew we could reach. I was told this by the wind. Do you hear it too? It’s like a lost shadow, never knowing how to follow you around, as though you were the shadow itself’. Go north, and you will be heard again,’ the letter resigned. No signature. Only the trust of how far I had come. The windows rattled with the cold, cold wind. Soon enough, I knew they would give. The wind spoke words, but it very well knew I wanted silence. The windows clattere...