A Word for Living Creatures

She wants to tell him she is coming, but he won’t wait to hear her, isn’t waiting, is already boarding a train, is already gone, stepping onto the train, surrendering his boarding pass to the first attendant. He isn’t looking back. He doesn’t see her (Does he want to see her?). Her - she wants to tell him she is light, feels light, is becoming light - both a weightlessness and a thing, a weight - she wants to tell him she is the light at the end of the tunnel, but it isn’t true, and she knows this, she knows she isn’t the light or even a light at the end of a tunnel, she’s just her, and she is not his light but still feels light, is becoming light or lighter. She knows he is not heading toward her, is not coming back, he’s gone, he isn’t - she wants to tell him to touch her, to kiss her, but she is disappearing already, a point in the distance, on the horizon, already eclipsed or falling, she isn’t sure which, but he can’t see her, he’s gone, he doesn’t want to see her (Does he?), he’s stuck in another tunnel, looking at another light, already fading or growing brighter.