As for me, I shall be just sitting here gazing at the meandering thoughts of you sorting through my memories instead.
As you grope around for words which quietly replace the pictures in your head.  Pictures, cunning, capricious and fickle, threatening to flit past at the speed of one breaths too many, or heartbeat skipped through.
I shall see you wandering amidst fragmented clouds in rich sepia sky looking for that prayer thought out aloud.
 Torschlusspanik- a fear of time running out, of running out of opportunities, of moments unlived, I shall see you panic and maybe that might set me free.

For the time being, let’s assume me absent, un-aware, imaginary, like the characters of an unfinished fiction spread out in the sleepy Sunday sun soaked yard.
let you  be scared of me slipping away, as I watch.

 For now let me just go by my selfish intentions and let you jot down the dreams that haunt you always with my presence, let me breath in your sighs, and trickle down the back of your neck.

I shall be there, at the sheer horizon of my absence.