A dog howled outside her window. Her mother laughed on the
phone. A movie blasted from the television in the next room.
Drawers closing. Bad music. Barking. Laughter. Deafening insanity.
She heard it all. Every creak, whisper, and click.
It drove her to the point of an irritable annoyance so strong; she
could feel it itching in her fingertips.
She heard nothing.
A silence so deep and strong it cast a black cape over the world. A
shadow over her charred memories. Feelings that she yearned to forget
still burned her. What could've been tortured her mind, while a
constant wondering tore her heart into shambles.
If she had only gotten there a second sooner. If she had been
less selfish, more aware, smarter, quicker, better, stronger. If only
he had waited that moment longer. If he had been less selfish, more
patient, smarter, less resentful, more believing in her.
If only there was something she could do.
But there wasn't. The man she had realised she could love two minutes
too late was gone forever. And she couldn't wrap her mind around it.
The words 'gone' and 'forever' just didn't fit together. So, instead,
they circled eachother in her head, like sharks in a tank, preparing
for the kill.
And so she sat.
For days she just sat. After he was gone she spent the entire
night just sitting on the stairs in a disbelieving daze. It hurt to
think. Too many what could've beens and ifs to recount. Eventually
her sister had crept down the stairs in a morning haze, and after
calling out her name, had placed a frightened hand on her cheek.
The hand had felt warm against her icy skin. She was frozen in time.
Stuck in a world of 'if onlys.'
She had responded with a vague nod and walked blankly into her room
where she sat once more.
And stared.
She couldn't think.
Because she knew.
Why he had left, how he had been right. She had thought she had given
him everything she possessed. Her soul, her body, her heart. She had
told him "I need you", "I want you", but had she ever said she loved
him? She was sure she must've at some point....but she couldn't remember.
Did she love him?
She thought she must have.
As a draft sweeps through the window and hits her shoulders,
she hears a faint knock on her bedroom door. She doesn't reply.
She can't.
As if sensing this, a younger version of herself slides timidly
through the door, and without saying a word, sits beside the weary
slayer, and takes her hand.
And she sits.
And they sit.
In the peaceful silence of no thoughts at all.
Or the screaming effort to contain them.
Had she given him everything? Could she have? When you know that you
love someone else, do they constantly posses a part of you? Can you
ever get that part back and give it to someone new, so that they can
know it? Can have you completely?
Had he felt neglected or taken for granted? Had she made him feel
unwanted? Unneeded? Had he been unhappy without her ever knowing?
Something had been missing.
A growing hole between them. A black void.
She had just been too distracted too notice.
Tears spill over her cheeks, and drip-drop down into her lap. She feels
her hand being squeezed tighter, and her head being pulled into the
lap of someone so young. So inexperienced and unsure, yet completely
wise in the art of emotion.
But shouldn't we all be?
The void had grown so completely large that he had found refuge in it.
With the dark. Away from her. She had kept him at a distance to protect
that one part of her that was no longer hers to give to another. She
had gripped the hole with her fingertips and stretched it wider. They
had pushed and pulled in silence until they had forgotten what love was.
Had she ever known it at all?
Can she ever be complete? How will she know when she is ready to truly
love with all her soul? Or will she always be divided?
Part of her here, part of her somewhere else.
But maybe she enjoys the pain and yearning it brings her to wonder if
she is a creature capable of love.
Or maybe not.
She continues to sob. For him. For herself. For what might have been.
Why must she bring such misery everywhere she turns?
No goodbyes were spoken, only harsh words that mean nothing when all
is said and done. This is a regret that will become rooted deep within
her.
Her cries quiet, and, with purpose, she slowly lifts her head.
And stares right into the face
Of a new dawn.
phone. A movie blasted from the television in the next room.
Drawers closing. Bad music. Barking. Laughter. Deafening insanity.
She heard it all. Every creak, whisper, and click.
It drove her to the point of an irritable annoyance so strong; she
could feel it itching in her fingertips.
She heard nothing.
A silence so deep and strong it cast a black cape over the world. A
shadow over her charred memories. Feelings that she yearned to forget
still burned her. What could've been tortured her mind, while a
constant wondering tore her heart into shambles.
If she had only gotten there a second sooner. If she had been
less selfish, more aware, smarter, quicker, better, stronger. If only
he had waited that moment longer. If he had been less selfish, more
patient, smarter, less resentful, more believing in her.
If only there was something she could do.
But there wasn't. The man she had realised she could love two minutes
too late was gone forever. And she couldn't wrap her mind around it.
The words 'gone' and 'forever' just didn't fit together. So, instead,
they circled eachother in her head, like sharks in a tank, preparing
for the kill.
And so she sat.
For days she just sat. After he was gone she spent the entire
night just sitting on the stairs in a disbelieving daze. It hurt to
think. Too many what could've beens and ifs to recount. Eventually
her sister had crept down the stairs in a morning haze, and after
calling out her name, had placed a frightened hand on her cheek.
The hand had felt warm against her icy skin. She was frozen in time.
Stuck in a world of 'if onlys.'
She had responded with a vague nod and walked blankly into her room
where she sat once more.
And stared.
She couldn't think.
Because she knew.
Why he had left, how he had been right. She had thought she had given
him everything she possessed. Her soul, her body, her heart. She had
told him "I need you", "I want you", but had she ever said she loved
him? She was sure she must've at some point....but she couldn't remember.
Did she love him?
She thought she must have.
As a draft sweeps through the window and hits her shoulders,
she hears a faint knock on her bedroom door. She doesn't reply.
She can't.
As if sensing this, a younger version of herself slides timidly
through the door, and without saying a word, sits beside the weary
slayer, and takes her hand.
And she sits.
And they sit.
In the peaceful silence of no thoughts at all.
Or the screaming effort to contain them.
Had she given him everything? Could she have? When you know that you
love someone else, do they constantly posses a part of you? Can you
ever get that part back and give it to someone new, so that they can
know it? Can have you completely?
Had he felt neglected or taken for granted? Had she made him feel
unwanted? Unneeded? Had he been unhappy without her ever knowing?
Something had been missing.
A growing hole between them. A black void.
She had just been too distracted too notice.
Tears spill over her cheeks, and drip-drop down into her lap. She feels
her hand being squeezed tighter, and her head being pulled into the
lap of someone so young. So inexperienced and unsure, yet completely
wise in the art of emotion.
But shouldn't we all be?
The void had grown so completely large that he had found refuge in it.
With the dark. Away from her. She had kept him at a distance to protect
that one part of her that was no longer hers to give to another. She
had gripped the hole with her fingertips and stretched it wider. They
had pushed and pulled in silence until they had forgotten what love was.
Had she ever known it at all?
Can she ever be complete? How will she know when she is ready to truly
love with all her soul? Or will she always be divided?
Part of her here, part of her somewhere else.
But maybe she enjoys the pain and yearning it brings her to wonder if
she is a creature capable of love.
Or maybe not.
She continues to sob. For him. For herself. For what might have been.
Why must she bring such misery everywhere she turns?
No goodbyes were spoken, only harsh words that mean nothing when all
is said and done. This is a regret that will become rooted deep within
her.
Her cries quiet, and, with purpose, she slowly lifts her head.
And stares right into the face
Of a new dawn.