Terminal

Written by: Amy Al

There is a suitcase in your hand,
And a film of tears blinding your 
eyes,
The salt lingers on your lips, my lips 
Like a final gift, a reminder of your 
presence,
I savour the taste, and sink into the 
heat
Our fingertips linger on cheeks and 
bare shoulders,
I'm weak and seasick, our hearts 
reside in our stomachs,
Deep indigo marks in the crook of 
your neck,
The sweet collarbone, your warm 
scent 
Skin slides past skin as we distance 
ourselves,
A distance expanding with each 
passing second,
We step back to gaze, eye to eye,
My soul is screaming, can't you hear 
it?
You blink, and I want to catch that 
tear,
To return it home and break its fall,
It collides with a tiled floor,
I swear I hear it shatter...

The terminal terminates us,
Why else call it that?