Nothing

It's three or four in the morning. I'm standing in the dark neighborhood, looking down the hill at the town below. 

Wrapping myself in the silence.

Headlights sometimes. Nothing mostly. Peace from where I am. 

Exist only as a shadow crossing the light from the streetlamps. A shadow crossing bedroom walls while they all sleep. I am boundless and free and only I inhabit this place. Soft and slow, my footsteps over the blacktop. 

In this place I think about you and it is okay.

In this place I walk next to myself. Rest my head on my shoulder. Whisper, feel. Inhale. Exhale. And the heat of it all is gone. The heat of the day. The heat of the moments. The heat of remembering. Gone.

I walk the blocks. You never know I am there. A ghost. 

The rabbits come out of the bushes and stop when they see me and dart back into the safety of the underbrush. 

I'll be your friend.

I'll be your friend.

If you'll let me.

The air is cool on my face and on my body. I didn't bring a jacket. I sit in the middle of 15th and People's. The road is vaguely wet. There are no cars. No cares. Traffic lights above me and their pattern over and over. Close my eyes. Feel the world around me. Listen. Breathe. To be nothing. To fade from here. Not violent. Not sudden. But to gradually dissipate like the fog of the morning. To integrate into the atmosphere and I could visit you while you smoke outside. While you laugh with your family. While you sit in your car and wonder where I've gone. To gradually dissipate and become the air you breathe and move through. 

If you'll let me.

I should walk home. I should slide soft into my bed. Pull the sheet over me. Dream. I should, and I will soon, but for now

Nothing.

Just a moment

to be nothing