The
day he left, I ran after dry wind,
catching
every breath at every stop or fall,
wiping
my wet face so that I would see,
and
then go back to running, only to feel numb
and
tired—exhausted—after long hours of running
after
the cold, invisible wind. That was the day he left.
The
day he left, the wind was cold, invisible,
and
dry as I felt, and I ran after it.
I
was exhausted from hours and hours of running.
I
stopped, fell, and caught breath.
I
tried to run again, but I just felt so numb.
Dry
as I felt, my face was wet, and I had to wipe it to see.
I
was wet, and my tears covered my face wet.
I
felt the cold, invisible wind when he left,
and
it made me feel numb inside though I was running.
I
ran after the wind when he left—I ran after nothing,
and
catching every breath, I stopped and fell
because
I grew tired after hours and hours of running.
I
was tired from hours and hours of running.
Tears
covered my face wet. I had to wipe it to see or else
I
would stop and fall. I tried to catch my every breath though,
but
the wind was just as cold and invisible as I felt the day he left.
The
day he left, I ran after the wind.
Running
again now would only make my feelings numb.
I
felt numb. I felt nothing—I feel nothing now for running
for
many long hours. I’m tired!
He’s
gone! The day he left, he was gone. I ran after dry wind,
and
the only thing wet that day was my face I had to wipe to see.
I
saw: he went away and left only cold invisible wind
for
me to catch my every breath whenever I would stop running or fall.
I’m
now catching every breath that came from his wind,
though
I feel too numb now to run again—
too
numb to run after the cold wind which made him invisible.
I
ran for hours already, and now, I’m tired,
and
I need to wipe my tears away now.
The
wind is very dry—dry as the day he left.
I
am tired from running for hours.
It’s
time to wipe my wet, teary face and see
that
he’s already gone. No use running after dry wind.
