theres this man whose eyes bleed this beautiful, sad blue. he hides it though, behind dark crops of hair and thick eyelashes. sometimes i find myself wanting to count the folds and wrinkles that hide his cheekbones and teach him how to smile. theres times i pass him and hell be pressing a cup of coffee gently to his lips and it makes me happy. i dont know why but i think it shows me hes alive. hes hearts beating and hes feeling something, anything.
he writes postcards to himself from his capital city to make sure he never forgets where he is. he posts them to himself and wonders why he does it. he cant really remember, but he buys new postcards every wednesday on his way home from work. he tells himself who he is and who he wants to be tomorrow. hes never who he wants to be, though. hes always who he wishes he wasnt.
on friday nights i walk my dog past the pier. sometimes ill walk down to the end, watching the sunset in the skyline. hes there every night. he sits with his legs hanging off the very end and i find myself wanting to not get too close. im not scared, but he looks peaceful and im afraid ill disturb him. maybe hes imagining hes got the world beyond him. maybe hes imaging that theres nothing in the world but a sunset-orange sea dotted with the silhouettes of sailing boats. maybe thats when hes happy. when hes alone, and somewhere else.
sometimes i think that maybe his sad eyes are only the surface of it. i think maybe hes suffering. it was thursday night and maybe nine-thirty. it was dark outside but the train was lit and the windows were like holes. just dark abysses. he was staring out them anyway. i thought that he might have been daydreaming, but then i saw tears rolling down his wrinkled face. his hands were shaking in his lap and sitting across from him i felt so sorry for him. something about seeing an old man cry i think cut deep. he turned to me and stuttered that hed seen me before.
ive seen you before too
you shouldnt have
because you dont deserve to have. im nothing
no youre not
forget i exist
dont ever forget you exist, though
the train stopped and i got off. the moon bled a sad, beautiful blue and i fell asleep trying to forget. i couldnt though, i couldnt ever. i never saw him again, but i hope hes in a world where all he can see is sunset orange sea and all he can taste is warm coffee pressed to his cracked lips. i hope he doesnt have to daydream and that his electric blue eyes arent sad anymore. i hope hes learnt to smile.