Lovelost

Of A Woman Named Rain

Eyes closed.

 

The distant sound of lazy, rolling waves caresses your ears. You're no stranger to patterns and repetition, but the predictable noise of the tide is somehow different, somehow comforting.

 

Inhaling deep breaths of salty air that carries the song of no responsibilities or cares, you revel deeply in the foreign sensation of utter tranquility. 

 

A bird calls from somewhere nearby and it shakes you only slightly from this dream like reverie.

 

A perfect escape.

 

You find yourself humming along to the tune of the breeze as it playfully ruffles your hair; the thought of sangria crosses your mind for a brief moment, but drinks are best for leaving the office behind.

 

And right now, you're in paradise,

no liquor required.

 

You stretch sore muscles, still stiff from sitting in that damned chair for what feels like days on end. The warm tropical air seems to breathe life back into a weary body.

 

Your shoulders momentarily shudder. The weight of your normal life unexpectedly seeps in like an unwanted visitor.

 

Guilt.

 

You fumble and struggle to push it out of your mind and refocus again on the warmth of the midday sun against your face.

 

Outside of this place, there's a storm. A relentless hurricane that batters against stability; torrential rains pound against buildings and flooded streets keep you trapped in that  office.

 

It's a dreary and abysmal existence.

 

If you think hard enough, you can recall a time when the sun would shine bright, and the sky was an endless sea of the richest blue.

When birds chirped melodies and the trees gladly borrowed  shade with leafy green palms.

 

Yet what once was life in technicolor gave way to dismal greyscale, and soon the rains came. What was supposed to be a season stretched on for uncomfortable lengths, and one day  you realized the storm was here to stay.

 

The relentless showering of water upon rooftops, and the continual howling of angry wind was enough to drive a man mad.

 

Yet you'd caught glimpses of the sun a few times- the briefest moment when the blanket of sullen grey cracked, and for those few seconds, hope was renewed.

 

Hope that the sun may yet shine again, that the birds may return; the only memories of the storm now collecting in raindrops rolling off their feathers.

 

It wasn't much, but it kept you holding on, and that's when you stumbled upon the secret place. A hidden corner of the world, somehow untouched by the storm outside.

 

It was the best and worst thing you could have discovered.

 

Each visit was a small slice of paradise, a break from watery misery, but your footprints tracked muddy reminders of bleak reality every time you entered. You feined ignorance but couldn't turn a blind eye to what was happening.

 

White sands, gradually staining with the murky darkness of the storm.

 

So often you mused to yourself if this place was your savior, or ultimate damnation.

For as pleasant and relaxing as it was, the nagging guilt of leaving others outside  as you indulged in relief left you walking back into the downpour with your head down,  and heart heavy.

 

It was impossible to tell if this tropical escape was necessary for staying your sanity, or if it was only a matter of time before it too fell prey to the swallowing blackness looming on the doorstep.

 

Only the roaming hands on the clock face of life could know the answer you searched for. And if you were honest with yourself, nothing else could quite compare to the way this beachy escape could make you feel. It stirred a long dormant part of you awake, and to lose this secret cove could feel like severing a lifeline.

 

You needed this.

 

For a man can only take so much mud and water squelching in his shoes before he slips under the same floods that have claimed so many before him.

 

"Perhaps, just perhaps, ignorance truly is bliss"

 

With renewed clarity, you dig your toes beneath warm sands  while the seagulls call, and a smile of contentment settles on your face.

 

When the breeze blows just right,

 

and the waves crash in tune,

 

you can nearly drown out the sound of the wailing winds behind you.

 

 

letting go

Folder: 
touch or click

wearing my emotions on the sleeve
verbalising; no longer the weapon
deeply hurt beyond measure
silence; my loudest voice

I'll serve no more as hindrance
till his empire becomes a success
in tears I'd found solace
building blocks of peace

his anthemized excuses drawl
so much strength he'd taken unknowingly

Author's Notes/Comments: 

it took every broken piece of me to write this. it is my 9th writeup. what do you think of it?

View inamorata's Full Portfolio

She Told Me

She told me that she didn't know

anymore what I thought we knew. 

She told me she was thinking still

of where to go and what to do.

 

She told me that she loved me still

yet she thought it best she go.

She told me that she always would

but in her eyes it didn't show. 

 

She left, and there I stood alone

as she swore I'd never be.

She left, and there I stood alone,

lost at home with her memory. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is based on a conversation had on Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend of this year. It is raw and painful and I don't know what to do.

View wnv's Full Portfolio

Half a Queen

I never thought the day would come.

 

The love that used to swell up in my chest, lover, you know- the kind of affection that tightens your throat and awakens a storm of butterflies to stir up madness in your belly-

 

Gone.

 

I grasp desperately at frayed heart strings, hoping upon damned hope that I would catch a fragmented piece of the blind passion I once felt for you,

 

Drowning myself  in the suffocating  fear of something far worse than loving a calloused man;

Losing the ability to feel at all.

 

The pain you've caused, the wounds your lies and deceit have inflicted, has left me numb.

I once knew how to forget the world and slip into a blissful ignorance as I rested in your strong embrace.

 

Now those days flutter in the recesses of my tired mind, and soon memories of what was melds together with dreams of what could have been,like a patchwork quilt forged from  the juxtaposition of the  life you promised us and the much bleaker reality, stitched together with missed phone calls and unexplained late nights.

 

 

When I think of these things, late late at night; when I realize I'll never learn to stifle the voice in my head that tells me your words are poison,

 

because I've learned that small voice tells more truth than your fallacy laced lips,

those are the nights I'm alright with not feeling.

Tonight I clutch numbness close to my chest, nod at the empty pillow, and  smile at the sound of sweet nothing.