I’m Not Done Yet

I’m not done yet, he said, and I hadn’t known what he meant. He said he wanted to travel, to move the world from an idea to an image and carve a tattoo on his arm. He said he wanted me once, but not twice. He said he liked to know things, to learn things, to read things and break them down.

He said he wanted movement and that I was slow and that made me easy to leave behind. He said he wanted something but took another. He said he liked his job but he dragged his feet while he left. He said his friends really liked me. He said Paul liked me. He said that life is about new beginnings and that I should find mine.

He said he was scared about the future and he’d dream of it coming at him from different directions in very abstract ways. He said he’d like to kiss me. He said he wasn’t free Monday. Then Tuesday. Then Wednesday and Thursday and Friday and Saturday – definitely not Sunday.

He said a great deal of things, and I hardly any, but when I did – it was to say goodbye. He said nothing.

~ Written by Stephanie Kentepozidis

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