Maybe you knew

'It's like we carry the world in our silences.' you said.

I thought that what you said was true, but couldn't bring myself to tell you.

You valued my opinion too much.

So we waited.

Forty-three minutes, holding out, waiting for all the sorts of nothing that we could never gain. Even the thunder held out, and the world stood still.

And the lighting froze in it's tracks, leaving melting cracks in the night sky.

'I'll bet that those cracks are just glimpses of heaven or something.' you said.

'I'll bet that the world would stop turning, if you asked it to.' I replied.

And you smiled coyly to your feet, a faint blush creeping up your neck.

With all eternity held stationary in our silence, my mind ran away with you. And my surrealist mind saw light falling in love, swans and willows dancing to the shouts of rebel gypsies.

We ran to sunlit hills and watched the stars. I took you beyond the seas, where underneath a coverlet of new-fallen snow, I stared into your eyes and saw everything that held my misgivings and fear.

Then my heart said relent.

And I watched as all the Mondays of the world carried you away from me, and brought me back to this dreadful silence, where even my name lost all meaning, and none could battle through the walls erected in commemoration of the time that time stood still.

And maybe you already knew.

Maybe you saw all that I did, days, months, years before I.

And maybe you knew of the cities that would come, all the fires that would destroy, the floods that would wash away the ashes. Maybe you saw it all in the moment you took your first breath, in the evenings when it was too hot to sleep, in my eyes, the day we first met.

And maybe you, somewhere along the line, convinced yourself that it wasn't that bad. 

Or maybe you knew it was, but continued.