Ten of your no’s, I spotted one yes;
all your harmonies, I suspected distress.
Your many smiles, I found reservation;
in your warmth, I sensed distance.
But was it keen observation,
or merely my projection?
Were your stabs true aggression,
or simply investigation?
Were you truly indifferent,
or were you holding protection?
Was your light your true brilliance,
or your mask of your essence?
Here I stand watching you glow,
I wondered if you are whole.
Or are you a different me;
similar wound, divergent glee?
Continue reading “Not Mine”
It used to be just a pretty little thing. Innocent. Care-free. Mischievous, like contagious giggles. A little too contagious, perhaps. A glance, maybe. Then two more. Perhaps it wasn’t anything… but mind has its own plan. A little a day… like waters over rock, like shower rains on moss. Just the little things…
Little they are but the marks they leave are anything but little. Water runs deep, they say. Caves it built, mountains it eased, wonders it carved… but lands it swallowed and lives did it drown. It started as a curious dance on your face in a summer night rain, then more and more until suddenly you find yourself spinning at the heart of a deluge, gasping for air as the torrents submerge you down to realms long forgotten, to the old precipice where you once took the leap of faith and fell to madness.
Crazy and insane it was, but the seduction was there. The search for contentment writhes under your skin; you couldn’t help but give in to the little whispers that promised the heavens. Lethal it was, but oh, the abyss, ever so alluring. But it is true, no matter how fearsome it is. There is no way out but to jump. There’s no certainty but to do it.
But jumping guarantees no release. So you may have to jump again. And again. But who dares return to the dark? Who dares choose to endure again the torture and the risks and the scars, for not a certainty but a mere fragment of hope for the light?
Guarantee or not, the mind is already subdued. The heart is already thrown against chest walls screaming and drumming tribal. Instinct already reigns supreme and reason stopped existing. Madness has already befallen. Catastrophe surely follows. Or perhaps the mythical promised miracle. No certainty at all. But hope springs eternal.
Rain falls. Innocent and curious it is no more. It is now an obsession. The wheels have long restarted, so much sooner than I dared to admit. It’s been raining for so long I now stand among tall grass. The flood is behind me somewhere. The abyss is before me out there. The sun’s already set. The ground is rumbling. And God help me.