The Longest Day

It was the longest night, after the longest day, when you kept me waiting...waiting.

The whole day was spent in counterfeit animation, a suspended reality, in that parallel universe where you were sole puppet meister to my wooden, erratic moves. So though I walked with feet on ground, I felt it not. Though I was spoken to and I answered, I registered no auditory thoughts, no visceral conversation.Though I stared at things impenetrable, I saw them not, yet looked through them into an unknown, beyond the moment dreamscape.

How the hours, minutes, seconds dragged their feet. Each moment of bliss was long drawn out, excruciating in its deliciousness, like a newly discovered flavour that lingered on my tongue tip, sending ripples down my spine till I explode, unfurl like a starfish afloat sunny sea green billows, into fits of gleeful girlish giggles.
If Heaven was thus...

But so was each moment of agony borne out inescapable; pain from a steel blade cut so deep you don't bleed for seconds, if at all. The wound, well buried but searing, merely haunts in subcutaneous mockery, radiating suffering both inwards and outwards. I curl into foetal ball, failing to will the notion away.
If Hell was thus...

And you kept me waiting... waiting still. Till out of breath from not breathing all day, I collapsed in shallow sleep, snippets of memories seeping in, out of consciousness each time I rose fitful from beta rhythms, spiking arrhythmic in my prone, perpetuated somnambulism.

I finally awoke at dawn, glistening from laboured unrest, but thankful that it would be a shorter day.