Alone on a Plane

35,000 feet and thousands of miles from home, a first, not in being away from my house but in being away from my real home, from her.

35,000 feet and a million miles away, though I am returning to my familiar room, there is no home awaiting my return, those sheets and those arms are no longer a comforting embrace, when I return to my bed I will be mere centimeters from her, yet no closer than I am right now amongst the clouds.

My home, my partner, my world, has joined all of the other memories I have accrued over a lifetime, as nebulous and as seemingly imagined as all of the other people that have come and gone, no longer flesh and blood and breath, gone now and forever into the realm of ghosts and spirits, back to my imagination, where she first resided in me a lifetime ago.

What is it that connected us? We call it love, an impoverished word to describe what it was, words are inadequate to describe what it is that connects two hearts. We have been separated by oceans while remaining so close I could taste her, connected by something that transcended time and space, losing it feels like dying, am I dead? I feel as though I am merely haunting this world now, that I am immaterial, as though I may pass right through the hurried crowds of LAX without being seen, no eyes left that can see me.