Faraway, So Close!
But I was always there. I was still very close to him. I wanted to be there.
Just watching him. And sometimes I just wanted to slap him. He could made such stupid choices. I knew him even better then himself.
Sometimes I wanted to hold him. When he was crying. I knew he was often dreaming about Linda.
But I left him every time he was whispering my name.
03.00 AM
9th October 2009
I was straddling his chest, touching those lips with a finger. His lips were like they had always been. After many years following him around,
the obscenity of these nightly visiting’s had been clearer and clearer. Why the nights? He was asleep! It was like petting a dead man!
Oh, the irony of it all.
He had been thinking of Linda again. And he had been sad. I had been sitting beside him on the bed, trying to brush my fingers through his hair but without succeeding.
And suddenly he had opened his eyes. Out of sheer reflex I hurriedly moved away when he sat up and he looked around before touching his face with a frown.
I sat down beside him and watched him closely. He was touching his face, but more immortally, he was touching his lips. Had he felt my touch?
“Paul?”
I had to try and immediately felt dumb when the other man didn’t react at all. This was stupid.
He had clearly dreamt something and I was starting to imagine things.
Fancy that, maybe you could imagine things even when you wasn’t even alive.
Yes. That was just something I was imagining. If I could suddenly influence the very much alive Paul McCartney I would punch him down the stairs so we could live happily ever after.
Well, we wouldn’t technically be alive but… No idea to try and continue on that string of thought.
I supposed I would be glad that he was sleeping alone at least. Lying there, watching him with Nancy on his other side was creepier then I ever would have thought possible.
God, I envied her so much.
And she almost made me angrier then any other woman Paul had been with after Linda. Because Nancy made him fucking happy.
I loved to see him happy, but I preferred being the source of happiness.
I had to go. I didn’t want to leave him, not after his sudden awakening. He was still sitting straight up in the bed, now watching his own hands,
seemingly deep in his own thoughts. But I had to leave. I would soon be back again. So I left him sitting here, feeling a deep sting once again by
the thought of not really being there for him. I hurriedly leaned closer; giving the only man I had ever loved a light kiss on the cheek before I had to go.
I really wished I could stay just a little longer. But I had to go. I had to leave him for the night. So I did.
“John?”
Just watching him. And sometimes I just wanted to slap him. He could made such stupid choices. I knew him even better then himself.
Sometimes I wanted to hold him. When he was crying. I knew he was often dreaming about Linda.
But I left him every time he was whispering my name.
03.00 AM
9th October 2009
I was straddling his chest, touching those lips with a finger. His lips were like they had always been. After many years following him around,
the obscenity of these nightly visiting’s had been clearer and clearer. Why the nights? He was asleep! It was like petting a dead man!
Oh, the irony of it all.
He had been thinking of Linda again. And he had been sad. I had been sitting beside him on the bed, trying to brush my fingers through his hair but without succeeding.
And suddenly he had opened his eyes. Out of sheer reflex I hurriedly moved away when he sat up and he looked around before touching his face with a frown.
I sat down beside him and watched him closely. He was touching his face, but more immortally, he was touching his lips. Had he felt my touch?
“Paul?”
I had to try and immediately felt dumb when the other man didn’t react at all. This was stupid.
He had clearly dreamt something and I was starting to imagine things.
Fancy that, maybe you could imagine things even when you wasn’t even alive.
Yes. That was just something I was imagining. If I could suddenly influence the very much alive Paul McCartney I would punch him down the stairs so we could live happily ever after.
Well, we wouldn’t technically be alive but… No idea to try and continue on that string of thought.
I supposed I would be glad that he was sleeping alone at least. Lying there, watching him with Nancy on his other side was creepier then I ever would have thought possible.
God, I envied her so much.
And she almost made me angrier then any other woman Paul had been with after Linda. Because Nancy made him fucking happy.
I loved to see him happy, but I preferred being the source of happiness.
I had to go. I didn’t want to leave him, not after his sudden awakening. He was still sitting straight up in the bed, now watching his own hands,
seemingly deep in his own thoughts. But I had to leave. I would soon be back again. So I left him sitting here, feeling a deep sting once again by
the thought of not really being there for him. I hurriedly leaned closer; giving the only man I had ever loved a light kiss on the cheek before I had to go.
I really wished I could stay just a little longer. But I had to go. I had to leave him for the night. So I did.
“John?”