Today marks one year since the day I walked with her out to the car, we said goodbye and i was told to return.. I repeated,” I love you blue eyes.. I could stay”. Every day for the next week communication was one ring pickup’s and “I miss you” and “I wish you were here, I need a hug”, the hug one felt like the sweetest text she ever wrote me, then lights out. Alone, total darkness. It ended so quick after an argument about over texting or even calling, I didnt realize how many there were, but there were few. After that call everything was voicemail, friends chose sides, friends with needs sought what they discreetly already had found along side strangers that entered and exited much like the fandoms which cheered with there constant social app attacks, so I closed them all, changed my name once to contact her just to know she was ok…. I was going to tell her in the middle of the conversation but it ended before I could explain, although it was a mistake I responsibly accepted the wound. Immediatly, I was drowning once again with no arrow up. I knew the answer, but then I pireced the tires on regret, I understood that not so strait line and continued with my head up, foreward pace would place my ears where heavenly father wanted me to hear best.
Whispers at this point began to get closer and the nightfall window didnt welcome those foosteps,
whispers began to follow… they began to nerrate and point out my faults and tamper, change with my minds diagnosis
I held on…
I’m still here….
most importantly, non regreting.
her name now carries like waves in the whispers…
they laugh but there my memories, her safety is my happiness not this unknowing moment I will have to swallow. It fills me that I no longer hunger.
Every day i think about my Adrian, gone away with his mother, stolen and growing up in my thoughts. I wonder and fantasize about having him and being a single father with my baby enduring the struggles, fighting the battles i want to win and the lessons and happiness of watching him evolve and what granted things i would chose not to take because he is enough. As are all my children. I work hard, everyday despite the physical and medical conditions i hide from myself and keep in the deepest end from the world as to not see my reflection through sympathetic eyes saying sorry and the charity that shrinks me smaller than the invisible choking in my throat. I miss my children, but love doesnt care. Love doesn’t wait nor does it grow with water. I hurt, i burn under the pain, i rot in the impressions from the blind, the blind that wait but push me closer to failure and eat what i work so hard to starve for later. I have nothing, only a record player, a bag full of clothes and a couple backpack pockets full of broken mementos i cherish and that seem to solar my drive in unkown ways. Yet im not fake, yet i stand apart from the rest no matter where i go or am. These abilities which i cant seem to define as amazing, talents or just sharp knives and ice picked tortures. Yet i breath, yet i try to love even if it is not real because its all i know, its all i was taught. Im trying.
Heated beads steaming into rolls charge at the sound of random aches finding the colour of my shirt, now lucky speratic night. Soaked eye lashes open to the sting of a cold sweat fumble in the dark in search for a clean wipe. Thoughts swirl untamed, new and feelings gallop shuffling flash cards, memory roller deck kicking up earth for clouding. Difficult to grasp a stop, a sit-up with fisted arm-stand only wanting my feet to settle for stable unlike this spinning ground.
Half second bolts torched, electric leaps landing sharp heels first the thoughts appear as pictures of emotions. Full halt arrival just as dashing, a hair nose photo finish before fully awaken. It’s over and I am halfway happy. Dreams fade along with the darkness like the baton handed to the light that brings vision, adjustment to my eyes. Unlit bedroom host a creeping streetlight, finger out shadows walking on walls and my only ally.
Tongue dry sanded paper, cotton mouth flavored swallowing signalled s.o.s. sendings to the feet with hand orders now seek the water I yern for. How ironic, emotions separate survival by twisting handles from bed time sounds I warmed now heartless taught my soul sorrow. Faucet pours like music handing relief while my tongue dances anxiously to the teasing splashings but the lips always have the first quenching.
Every morning I walk into my house, 4am, hungry, tired and lonely. Months since we said goodbye and i have had only her on my mind and no interest in any other girl nor laid in any other bed. I have trouble sleeping with out her, I wake up every hour hoping to awake from a dream and find her still in my arms as I breath her hair. Her body warm and wrapped by mine, tangled legs and arms traded. Nites there would be a little one that fights her for me, “my wawa, mommy”, her little red hair and chocolate covered face rolls into me throughout the night keeping me at the edge of the bed but happy and loved while blue eyes sleeps hugging the pillows that can’t replace the warmth she steals that only I give. I miss her. I love her.
You don’t know how beautiful this world is until the car door is opened and your getting in it to strap on that seat belt and take a ride. It’s a beautiful mess, the unimaginable thoughts and feelings that have cut through my very soul like words slice through air. I wish everyone could appreciate the little things as much as the big things and that time really doesn’t exist when it’s running out. In fact I don’t think about time anymore and the clocks around my room and house have been unplugged to keep that reminder from reminding.
Every morning through the few broken blinds and the thin two layers of merlow curtains the sun crawls into my room without invite. Faster and brighter as my eyes adjust the transition from what I don’t know and what feels like awaking dream into dream. Hours pass masked in the daylight like minutes at times and the nights drag me into solitude and peaceful discoveries of un-embarrassed giggling talents and the sorrow puncturing tip of reality feeding lumber into my furnace.
Fuck death, I shit bigger than death in the mornings. I was never scared of anything except hurting someone or losing loved ones. Kindness can be mistaken for weakness but in all reality, no body wants to see the “Hulk”. Lol
Cueing the dominos that ripple into the room, are fiddles like fingers or voices for breeze, drop electric letters spot to the heart by unbending knees. Masterpiece or rhythm taste like rain, enunciate the language for ears and eyes, thunder a sphere of applause at the entrance or au revoir.
.via Daily Prompt: OvationOvation