I yearn to arise and make out your face each morning, with the bright rays cross your face and the day that waits to unfold for us both.
I grow tense as I focus my attention to my growing abdomen; four months strong, now outwardly drooping over the blue pant seam. Bending over, reaching for the packet of frozen raspberries seemed to take immense effort. Suddenly I noticed the uncomfortable cold sensation running through my fingertips. My eyes wide as I lifted my hand into a different position, absent from the packet. I slipped the red object between my lips, barely able to hold it stable. Clearing myself of any sign of drowsiness I hold firm the armrests of the chair, pressure beneath my palms to lift the aching body I was incased within. I steadily make my way over to the wooden cupboard leaning against the bedroom wall, my fingers curled around the rusty golden handle and with one jagged pulling motion it opened. I shuffle through the letters by date till I reach a familiar crumpled cream envelope; the contents read many times for this was the last intent he left before he departed. My eyes start to water, I can barely unfold the paper within.
Holding onto the weight of your words
Wait for my return…
- Charles
My eyes burned, as I did not let a single drop of my weakness’ to escape. They seemed to be merely words, words to deceive my heart and each time my eyes scanned his handwriting, a sharp stabbing pain would form in my chest making it hard to breath.
----
She was all I could see as my eyes focused on the apartment building ahead of me. Nothing had changed. I wondered if she continued to reside in the home we bought together. A westward breeze slapped my face as I rustled my left hand against the cigarette packet situated in my jacket pocket. My right hand trembled with the light placed between my index and my ring fingers. I selfishly asked her to wait for my return, not knowing when the inadequacy within my being would cease. I wish I could venture back and show her that I was unworthy of her undivided attention and her faith that encapsulated a man I never could be.
As if she heard my calling presence, she appeared in front of the building, closing the familiar glass doors behind her. My eyes diverted to her glowing face then to her expanded waist and then my limbs froze. I closed off my vision of her beside me with our child, her hands residing in mine, as I was lost beneath the bottled anger, the muddled nonsensical words. What I desired to say to her was inexpressible and inexcusable. I battled with my pride as I knew selfishly I loved her too much to let her leave me again. But in that exact moment I reminded myself that I would not hurt her once more as I suppressed the urge to suddenly call out her name when I watched her walk away. Even now she had the same effect on me; still in awe of her beauty. Hands in my pocket, I walked away from the nostalgic building leaving behind everything I held dear, carrying with me nothing, nothing at all.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
textile ocean (apr08)
I repeated the lines of a novel I knew so well in my mind;
Creatures of the textile ocean.
Swimmers in a sea of colored fabric…
The words painted images and consumed me with thoughts related and unrelated. As I started to pick at the fluff that stuck out of the warm gentle blanket that covered my fears, I sat perplexed. The fabric molded itself against my body, I dared not move. A soft murmur against my ear speaking of quick-fix products that would change my life, started to increase in volume as I realized my head was resting against the radio. I shifted my head, lifted my arm to switch the deceitful voices off and removed the object to the ground. Residing on the wall opposite hung a black rectangular clock that urged me to rest, printing 5:25AM. Late as it is, I felt no urgency to relinquish the battle for an answer. Was her leave a sign of abandonment? Was she running, hiding away, hoping for a quick-fix to all that was happening? It seemed she gave up and I held on.
~
“I’m leaving for a while” mum says, pulling up at the traffic lights, “…for some work related things”. I could hear the stammer in her voice and tone notorious for hinting she meant otherwise.
“You’re just going to leave?” I ask in disbelief, “Is it really for your job?”
After a long pause she answered both questions in unison, “Yes”.
~
I wiped a seemingly melodramatic tear from my eye and made the decision to reside in blank idealism. Afterwards I lay still, letting myself sink into the warm fabric that engulfs me as my eyes start to flicker to signal my fatigue. Receiving only flashes of light from the surrounding environment, I realize my vision is blurred, perception weak. As my emotions suppress, I safely closed my eyes and drift into a deep sleep.
Only confusion, no conclusions.
Creatures of the textile ocean.
Swimmers in a sea of colored fabric…
The words painted images and consumed me with thoughts related and unrelated. As I started to pick at the fluff that stuck out of the warm gentle blanket that covered my fears, I sat perplexed. The fabric molded itself against my body, I dared not move. A soft murmur against my ear speaking of quick-fix products that would change my life, started to increase in volume as I realized my head was resting against the radio. I shifted my head, lifted my arm to switch the deceitful voices off and removed the object to the ground. Residing on the wall opposite hung a black rectangular clock that urged me to rest, printing 5:25AM. Late as it is, I felt no urgency to relinquish the battle for an answer. Was her leave a sign of abandonment? Was she running, hiding away, hoping for a quick-fix to all that was happening? It seemed she gave up and I held on.
~
“I’m leaving for a while” mum says, pulling up at the traffic lights, “…for some work related things”. I could hear the stammer in her voice and tone notorious for hinting she meant otherwise.
“You’re just going to leave?” I ask in disbelief, “Is it really for your job?”
After a long pause she answered both questions in unison, “Yes”.
~
I wiped a seemingly melodramatic tear from my eye and made the decision to reside in blank idealism. Afterwards I lay still, letting myself sink into the warm fabric that engulfs me as my eyes start to flicker to signal my fatigue. Receiving only flashes of light from the surrounding environment, I realize my vision is blurred, perception weak. As my emotions suppress, I safely closed my eyes and drift into a deep sleep.
Only confusion, no conclusions.
rationality (mar08)
Gripping the glass with a strength knowingly would never let it shatter. I eased the pressure for a second and knew exactly what would relieve this bitterness. It was over in a flash as I watched smashed glass pieces glisten on the white tiled kitchen floor. It seemed selfish, usurious, stubborn to hold on so strongly. My mouth unsuppressed every bottled up emotion, my voice hoarse and strained.
Your eyes glaring,
Too fearful to hold your gaze
Haunted.
Harsh words that scarred
Hands that left wounds
Remember?
To love you dearly
Never to betray
Unconditional.
I breathed heavily, my throat sore and tight. I grasped a moment to compose myself and took contact with the plastic red seat beneath me. Am I naive to stay and suffer the repercussions of your lost wonderings in the wilderness? I gain rationality and realize, even though I cannot save you, I know someone who can.
I slide down off the chair to my knees, weeping openly and I pray for a miracle.
Your eyes glaring,
Too fearful to hold your gaze
Haunted.
Harsh words that scarred
Hands that left wounds
Remember?
To love you dearly
Never to betray
Unconditional.
I breathed heavily, my throat sore and tight. I grasped a moment to compose myself and took contact with the plastic red seat beneath me. Am I naive to stay and suffer the repercussions of your lost wonderings in the wilderness? I gain rationality and realize, even though I cannot save you, I know someone who can.
I slide down off the chair to my knees, weeping openly and I pray for a miracle.
creeping (mar08)
He is nameless, nonexistent, and yet seemingly present in my spirit. Can I declare all that you are on this page dearest? Without seeing, without hearing without feeling our hearts align, I know you are the have the sweetest scent, a knowing smile and hands that play melodies only meant for my ears. Maybe we’ll meet on a bus filled with leather seats and a graffiti ceiling, behind the tinted café windows I join, or during the rain pour as you ask to share my umbrella. I’ll be waiting for you. Are you lingering by the street crossing, waiting for the green light to pulsate within me to approach you with the courage I could muster if only I realized it was you? Find me so we can embrace this waltz, hand in hand, melodies I can hear that make my heart feint now. I can almost hear you whisper my name…
As I lean further towards the tainted windows I hide behind, I watch you walk across the crossing. It’s not you but I’m bias, my emotions tainted by the person you are and as a result deep within me I wish it were you. A tear streams down my powdered face and I run outside, I run to a nameless nonexistent and yet seemingly present place in my mind and for a moment, it is you.
As I lean further towards the tainted windows I hide behind, I watch you walk across the crossing. It’s not you but I’m bias, my emotions tainted by the person you are and as a result deep within me I wish it were you. A tear streams down my powdered face and I run outside, I run to a nameless nonexistent and yet seemingly present place in my mind and for a moment, it is you.
the old house (mar08)
I stumble three paces backward. His hand leaves a lasting throbbing imprint on my cheek and as I try to regain stability in my legs, a shaking sensation within my throat starts to form and seconds later I cough, leaving a splattered bloodstain soaking into the carpet. I stood agape in front of him wondering if it was over; hoping it would be. He is glaring, shouting, heading towards me. I close eyes and wait for the inevitable.
My back slides down the wall I fall against. Feeling so weak I can barely hold myself up, regulate my breathing or even hide away. My sweat creates friction; my sweat, a protective layer over my body. I watch him breathing heavily, kneeling on the carpeted floor where he committed another crime to his own conscience. His head tilted forward observing the blood trickling from his knuckles wondering if it was his or mine. We both are waiting, pondering the same question, when will it end?
Many moons have passed as I wait for him to be rescued out of his own darkness but today I only wait for his next move. I turn to stare at the red stain made only minutes ago, remembering how the carpet did not hesitate to engulf the red mixture…it took seconds. An anger festered inside of me and my gaze returns to where he kneels. His head is bowed, eyes clenched tightly, not allowing his hurt to escape in a weak manner. Yet what is weak? This is weak.
time (jan08) -chi
She moved from my embrace to face towards me. I tried to provide her a hope that would not abandon, a hope she could not push away with her insecurities. I kept repeating the familiar words of my heart, ‘I love you…I love you’, wanting for it to sink in and become an amour against the adversity ahead. A voice called out her name, beckoned for her to face her fears. My breathing staggered, her legs moved uneasy as she left my presence.
As I shut my eyes, I tried to recapture the happy moments I spent with my darling. Even now, I can still sense her soft hands caressing the nape of my neck, the warm exhalations through my hair and her voice calling in my ear, whispering ‘I need you’. My arms folded into one another, elbows faced in opposite directions, both lodged on the wooden windowsill that was confined by the white surroundings. Legs feel weak, fingers weary, eyes watery. Check. As I battle away the tears, I knew I needed to be strong. Her faith in me gives me strength. If I fell, who would carry her out of the lonesome and fearsome desert of her heart?
Time passes, my heart aches. I yearn for her to suddenly run towards me, her soft hands grab hold of my shoulders, leaving me dazed, bewildered by her touch and tell me that I was right, that everything will be ok. Suddenly I heard the door unlock. I turned to see a man in white coat heading towards me, his stethoscope banging against his chest with each movement. Staggering behind was a woman so familiar, hands shaking, head hanging low; afraid. I knew from her expression that it was inevitable. Her knees started to shake; her whole body in one smooth motion drew closer and closer to her rapidly enlarging shadow. I rushed over just in time to catch her. Everything else seemed blurry and at that moment all I knew was that she was part of me like breathing and now it felt as though half of me was left…
As I shut my eyes, I tried to recapture the happy moments I spent with my darling. Even now, I can still sense her soft hands caressing the nape of my neck, the warm exhalations through my hair and her voice calling in my ear, whispering ‘I need you’. My arms folded into one another, elbows faced in opposite directions, both lodged on the wooden windowsill that was confined by the white surroundings. Legs feel weak, fingers weary, eyes watery. Check. As I battle away the tears, I knew I needed to be strong. Her faith in me gives me strength. If I fell, who would carry her out of the lonesome and fearsome desert of her heart?
Time passes, my heart aches. I yearn for her to suddenly run towards me, her soft hands grab hold of my shoulders, leaving me dazed, bewildered by her touch and tell me that I was right, that everything will be ok. Suddenly I heard the door unlock. I turned to see a man in white coat heading towards me, his stethoscope banging against his chest with each movement. Staggering behind was a woman so familiar, hands shaking, head hanging low; afraid. I knew from her expression that it was inevitable. Her knees started to shake; her whole body in one smooth motion drew closer and closer to her rapidly enlarging shadow. I rushed over just in time to catch her. Everything else seemed blurry and at that moment all I knew was that she was part of me like breathing and now it felt as though half of me was left…
stay for a while (nov07)
I dream in black and white these days and when I arise to a new hour; the color of the bright mornings, the fresh smell of milk and the clean-mint taste of toothpaste seemed to all have disappeared. I cannot forget of a love I once had and sometimes I reminisce and longed to have said before he left, “stay with me while my smile has not faded”.
***
I held his hand that day like the intertwining of our fingers and warmth would last for eternity. I was surrounded by a magnificent clear blue sky, a magnificent crowd of people, a magnificent world. We treaded along the sidewalks of our own reflection and it was as though nothing could take that moment away.
I was so consumed in our walk that I hardly noticed a woman had been trailing our movement, and as we took for halt in front of a deserted park, she felt the instant was perfect. A knife was abruptly held deeply against the neck of the man I was momentarily holding hands with. I froze with a fear the filled my entire being. She demanded money, demanded that I hurry, demanded I beg for our lives and then her knife dug so deep that she demanded to take his breath away. His blood dripped from the knife and in unison, his knees gave way to the cold gravel ground. I flung myself to his motionless body, denying that the man lying beside me was gone. I shook him vigorously, demanding selfishly for him to not leave. My hand was shaking as I reached out to his. The hand I held was familiar…yet cold and immobile.
I glanced over to the woman who was now desperately digging through my leather purse. I stood up slowly and walked over. A hatred I had never experienced overwhelmed me, and my hand suddenly reached out and curled around her neck. Impulses had taken hold of my movements. Her face started to turn a shade of blue, or was it green, my vision was blurred from the tears. The beat pulsing against my fingers had suddenly stopped and in that moment my heart had also.
***
I try to play the melody that our hands once played but the piece feels empty and will probably be soon forgotten.
***
I held his hand that day like the intertwining of our fingers and warmth would last for eternity. I was surrounded by a magnificent clear blue sky, a magnificent crowd of people, a magnificent world. We treaded along the sidewalks of our own reflection and it was as though nothing could take that moment away.
I was so consumed in our walk that I hardly noticed a woman had been trailing our movement, and as we took for halt in front of a deserted park, she felt the instant was perfect. A knife was abruptly held deeply against the neck of the man I was momentarily holding hands with. I froze with a fear the filled my entire being. She demanded money, demanded that I hurry, demanded I beg for our lives and then her knife dug so deep that she demanded to take his breath away. His blood dripped from the knife and in unison, his knees gave way to the cold gravel ground. I flung myself to his motionless body, denying that the man lying beside me was gone. I shook him vigorously, demanding selfishly for him to not leave. My hand was shaking as I reached out to his. The hand I held was familiar…yet cold and immobile.
I glanced over to the woman who was now desperately digging through my leather purse. I stood up slowly and walked over. A hatred I had never experienced overwhelmed me, and my hand suddenly reached out and curled around her neck. Impulses had taken hold of my movements. Her face started to turn a shade of blue, or was it green, my vision was blurred from the tears. The beat pulsing against my fingers had suddenly stopped and in that moment my heart had also.
***
I try to play the melody that our hands once played but the piece feels empty and will probably be soon forgotten.
rain (oct07)
I stand beneath the power lines, in front of the peeling wooden fence.
I trample on the dry, prickly and corn-yellow grass, unknowingly bringing death to the insects beneath me.
I watch up ahead to the gray, aged skies that stare back at my outwardly paralyzed body, leaning against the rough wooden pole.
The rain pours.
In the silence I wonder why things have happened this year. On a day of celebration and festivity, my body, my soul shuffles out to the street, drenched in rain just hoping I would be cleansed from it all. As I wait for the inevitable, I hope that I could be inwardly paralyzed, even if it were just for a moment, a second.
Mum’s car swerves into the driveway.
For a moment my eyelids shut and I stand without a thought floating, just to feel the water trickling down my body. As I plant my feet to the brown, concrete tiles beneath me, I cannot tell the difference between my tears and His.
She smiles at me.
I shift my weight to the soles of my feet, leaning forward to see my own reflection in the deformed puddle at the edge of my toes.
I know that the rain may never stop, everyday is a new battle and that in either desert or storm, I will conquer.
I head towards the car and wrap my arms around mum.
I trample on the dry, prickly and corn-yellow grass, unknowingly bringing death to the insects beneath me.
I watch up ahead to the gray, aged skies that stare back at my outwardly paralyzed body, leaning against the rough wooden pole.
The rain pours.
In the silence I wonder why things have happened this year. On a day of celebration and festivity, my body, my soul shuffles out to the street, drenched in rain just hoping I would be cleansed from it all. As I wait for the inevitable, I hope that I could be inwardly paralyzed, even if it were just for a moment, a second.
Mum’s car swerves into the driveway.
For a moment my eyelids shut and I stand without a thought floating, just to feel the water trickling down my body. As I plant my feet to the brown, concrete tiles beneath me, I cannot tell the difference between my tears and His.
She smiles at me.
I shift my weight to the soles of my feet, leaning forward to see my own reflection in the deformed puddle at the edge of my toes.
I know that the rain may never stop, everyday is a new battle and that in either desert or storm, I will conquer.
I head towards the car and wrap my arms around mum.
the unlocked rhythm (oct07)
The dancer’s fearless leaps can be heard in the puddles of her own light during fading spirits; soaring above her own stage, her audience, and her moments. She slips, finding herself helpless on the cold wooden floor, the lights still glaring, the rhythm locked at a pace of zero. She expects criticism to arrive in a pack of wild dogs from the edge of the stage but she can only hear her own voice yelling, yearning to leap again. Reaching an arm out above her head, she can feel her faith rising although it cannot be seen, like the air she basks in. Her whole body is now distant from the floor she leaps off, her feet feeling faint from her insecurities as though she will never find herself there again.
The audience cheers, an encore.
The audience cheers, an encore.
grandpa2 (sep07)
Lying beside me, I saw a frail man that I hardly recognized. He wasn’t the man that shared stories to me as a child or tried to impart wisdom and knowledge in my life. The hand I held was rough, scaly and immobile.
Waiting for the inevitable.
her sunshine (sep07)
Words cannot express how much I love her…
Her shadow is imprinted on the white tablecloth as she sits across from me. Time shifts, yet I stand immobile without a desire to break free and move forward. I hope to make her proud, for her to know that she raised me well but all hope is lost with constant failure. It is as though my head won’t lift and see the bright shining stars behind the tear stained curtains. She tries to smile but I am not fooled. I have already filled her with a disappointment that can never be erased with a smile.
grandpa (aug07)
As she conversed with her siblings, I searched for meaning from the words that came out of my mother’s mouth, ‘…dads condition is getting worse’
I sat in the chair as grandpa observed my tussled hair, ‘you have to learn to brush your hair like this silly girl’. He took the comb and as we stood in front of the bathroom mirror, he parted my hair and brushed out all the knots. I smiled and got ready to head off to school. Hand in hand we waited for the bus together and I let go as I stepped onto the bus.
I was 7.
I listened to these grave words behind the enclosed door. The defined grains from the wood started to blur and as I slowly lifted my hands towards my face, all I could feel were the wet smudges of water that grew under my eyes.
I sat in the chair as grandpa observed my tussled hair, ‘you have to learn to brush your hair like this silly girl’. He took the comb and as we stood in front of the bathroom mirror, he parted my hair and brushed out all the knots. I smiled and got ready to head off to school. Hand in hand we waited for the bus together and I let go as I stepped onto the bus.
I was 7.
I listened to these grave words behind the enclosed door. The defined grains from the wood started to blur and as I slowly lifted my hands towards my face, all I could feel were the wet smudges of water that grew under my eyes.
remember (jul07)
A person will always leave a mark; a hole or a renewed part of you that the world seemed to turn their back on.
Raising my aching head, I stare out of the window. Images of intimacy and familiarity present themselves; the lush green grass trampled by boisterous, playful, carefree neighborhood kids; the contrast between my world and theirs is evident. I turn my attention to the roaring television, which I focus on furiously; the complete antithesis of all stresses, intellectual, emotional and familial of the day. The occupants of the TV house* backstab, gossip and complain about poor quality meals and unwashed dishes; a far cry from the serious, drama infested world of a teenager. These diversions are there to keep my mind off the mistakes I eagerly made. I had rejected the simple notions of reality and friendship, willingly making myself vulnerable by holding onto the residue of past relationships, not leaving them behind, afraid I’ll lose something more. But these days it seemed letting go was unavoidable…
*Big Brother yo~
Raising my aching head, I stare out of the window. Images of intimacy and familiarity present themselves; the lush green grass trampled by boisterous, playful, carefree neighborhood kids; the contrast between my world and theirs is evident. I turn my attention to the roaring television, which I focus on furiously; the complete antithesis of all stresses, intellectual, emotional and familial of the day. The occupants of the TV house* backstab, gossip and complain about poor quality meals and unwashed dishes; a far cry from the serious, drama infested world of a teenager. These diversions are there to keep my mind off the mistakes I eagerly made. I had rejected the simple notions of reality and friendship, willingly making myself vulnerable by holding onto the residue of past relationships, not leaving them behind, afraid I’ll lose something more. But these days it seemed letting go was unavoidable…
*Big Brother yo~
silence (jul07)
Amid the sea of smiling faces were malleable minds that bent to the tides of society. Young hearts prepared to be captivated by the beauty of life and love; hastily rejecting growth and striving to attain immediate maturity. I placed the drink down on the mahogany table, faced the crowd and observed the dancing, flirting and laughter. Something made me recall the events of the day before, fighting for a voice, the struggle for acceptance, started to fill my mind. It was the volume.
I closed the door behind me to minimize the sounds of the glaring speakers. Looking down at my feet, I could see the swollen stains left by a woman’s utmost painful accessory. A car was in the distance, tinted windows, there would be silence. Every step towards my destination, my feet pulsed with aching pain. I opened the door and positioned myself on the seat. I was surrounded by a strong perfume that attempted to mask the concentrated new car odor. Another person was sitting on my right but I didn’t seem to mind. Seated next to an unexpected friend, pouring my soul out to a stranger.
murdering matrimony (may07)
Waiting for the restaurant to produce your meal, for love, for ideals to change into a reality. She took her jaded heart away with her as she walked down the isle. Finally, she had found her knight in shining armour, and he had stolen her away into a world of refuge, adoration and liberality. Engulfed in her own romantic commentary, she disregarded all that she once held important. Living in her own world, I was trapped by feelings of remorse; regret that I adhered to our relationship. I carried my feelings away to the only place I knew, into veiled confines of suppression.
Expectancy in this world will always fail you.
Expectancy in this world will always fail you.
liquor (may07)
Moving slowly, swaying, each beat saltating off my hips. These moments are what I crave. For many others it would be the gentle wind caressing their cheek as they walk by or the grains of sand indulging the crevices of their toes as they stroll down beach. But for me, dancing was an art form, an expression or suppression of emotions, where you could be wistfully whisked away into an idyllic realm.
I opened my eyes and realised where I was. The walls so familiar, ten years with the same off pink and peeling paint. Days leave behind not memories but jaded feelings. My thoughts lead me away and as I try and reprimand myself I head towards the fridge. I took the strongest thing that I could get. And as I felt the distasteful liquor drain down my throat, I knew I was gone. My face fell hard against the varnished wooden floor and that was the last thing I felt that night.
I opened my eyes and realised where I was. The walls so familiar, ten years with the same off pink and peeling paint. Days leave behind not memories but jaded feelings. My thoughts lead me away and as I try and reprimand myself I head towards the fridge. I took the strongest thing that I could get. And as I felt the distasteful liquor drain down my throat, I knew I was gone. My face fell hard against the varnished wooden floor and that was the last thing I felt that night.
lost (apr07)
The narrative of my existence is the reality of this life, recording the tragedy of a life that has never lived “life to its full potential”. I purposely distract myself from the important things in life by living in the moment; the future only seemed a fictional story for the naïve. People dream of producing prodigious jazz pieces, creating marvellous works of art or even swiftly dancing across eminent stages of the world. Stray ideals of fame, intelligence, passion and striving to intangible aspirations were all part of ploy to make us collapse. The cynicism I present now stems from a failure of academic proportions.
the battle (dec06) -chi
The constant battle with her desertion has lead to my emotional distress, which can be only described as traumatically crippling. Her absence in my life fueled my hatred of humanity, the unjust nature of our circumstances superseding beyond the passionate love we had. A love of unbearable heat, a love that transcended the space between two people, had now become cooled into a bitter platonic desire to remain by her side.
I cannot help but feel that for her, our past is gone, forgotten, discarded like the skin of a snake. Her hands caressing another I observed from across the room, I was left forlorn, fighting for control and alleviated anguish.
The trivial novelty gifts I carried away from her house were now dumped with the kitchen rubbish. The gifts I was able to toss away with but minimal effort, but I was burdened by something less tangible; the feelings, the memories. I felt a deep and powerful longing to casually flick them aside, their worth to me forgotten, insignificant like a mere speck on the vast plains of life. I endeavor a journey of suppression and containment, but the reminiscent thoughts invade my mind, as an army of ants invade a beautiful Saturday picnic, uninvited and destroying.
As I tell my story, the pain is overwhelming. It fills my entire being, and shadows my every action. But I want it to be known, I tell this story without a trace bitterness, and I intend no recrimination by it. It is just a story of a lost soul trying to find solace against the harsh and cruel winds…
I cannot help but feel that for her, our past is gone, forgotten, discarded like the skin of a snake. Her hands caressing another I observed from across the room, I was left forlorn, fighting for control and alleviated anguish.
The trivial novelty gifts I carried away from her house were now dumped with the kitchen rubbish. The gifts I was able to toss away with but minimal effort, but I was burdened by something less tangible; the feelings, the memories. I felt a deep and powerful longing to casually flick them aside, their worth to me forgotten, insignificant like a mere speck on the vast plains of life. I endeavor a journey of suppression and containment, but the reminiscent thoughts invade my mind, as an army of ants invade a beautiful Saturday picnic, uninvited and destroying.
As I tell my story, the pain is overwhelming. It fills my entire being, and shadows my every action. But I want it to be known, I tell this story without a trace bitterness, and I intend no recrimination by it. It is just a story of a lost soul trying to find solace against the harsh and cruel winds…
let her go (dec06) - chi
I let her go, as I knew I would have to. It was no longer the game it started out to be but two hearts longing to beat as one. The heavy sighs of her heart had become for me the haunting emblem of her own affliction. And as I look back on the memories we once shared, the extraordinary journey we took, I can only long, long for it to be as it used to be.
From the very beginning it was a secret, a passionate story only heard by two people. Astounding as it may seem, I could no longer continue with the confined charade. Tears welled up in both of our eyes. Her soul was in pain and as she distanced herself from her friends and family, she had discontinued see the point of her own existence. It was then when I knew that it had become truth, for her face was always tortured when she looked at me in ways I knew instinctively no mere physical ailment could explain. I tried to steer away but we as if by fate kept returning to each other.
So many times I had walked in on her hunched shadow casting large against the wall, and the waters of her heart slipping, gripping for dear life on the edge of the window sill.
From the very beginning it was a secret, a passionate story only heard by two people. Astounding as it may seem, I could no longer continue with the confined charade. Tears welled up in both of our eyes. Her soul was in pain and as she distanced herself from her friends and family, she had discontinued see the point of her own existence. It was then when I knew that it had become truth, for her face was always tortured when she looked at me in ways I knew instinctively no mere physical ailment could explain. I tried to steer away but we as if by fate kept returning to each other.
So many times I had walked in on her hunched shadow casting large against the wall, and the waters of her heart slipping, gripping for dear life on the edge of the window sill.
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