Through the nights I wrestle with the ghosts you drew on my back. You left your marks on me in a whirlwind of passion and fear. Your frenzy was a disguise of your trembling inside. I had missed it; I looked beyond your eyes, in search of a spark that could have lived in another time and space. You had missed it; in fear you turned me into twisted shadows of who I am and pushed me to the edge of your consciousness.
You and I should not have shared this space again. We let it burn into ashes. That should not have surprised me, I have always known you do not have my game. Yet you had to and I wanted to, so I fooled myself for a moment and let us jump off the cliff. I could have caught you if you had the courage to plunge into the fall. But you do not. You listened to me in the flame but all the while you were turning blind. You refused to know.
Now you have fallen and I have fallen in different places. Neither of us will speak; you do not know that I have understood the conclusion even before you make it. Will you be relieved - or will you wonder - if I pack the monuments of you and me, walk away and never look back? The silver you left me is not a silver of hope. It is a gift I will keep in my drawer, along with other forgotten accessories I have collected over the years.
Now I look into the void that has erupted. I do not know what is going to happen. I will try to stay within silence and wait for it to engulf me, or for the terrain to turn and carry me to a rock where I will lay waiting until you find me.
You and I should not have shared this space again. We let it burn into ashes. That should not have surprised me, I have always known you do not have my game. Yet you had to and I wanted to, so I fooled myself for a moment and let us jump off the cliff. I could have caught you if you had the courage to plunge into the fall. But you do not. You listened to me in the flame but all the while you were turning blind. You refused to know.
Now you have fallen and I have fallen in different places. Neither of us will speak; you do not know that I have understood the conclusion even before you make it. Will you be relieved - or will you wonder - if I pack the monuments of you and me, walk away and never look back? The silver you left me is not a silver of hope. It is a gift I will keep in my drawer, along with other forgotten accessories I have collected over the years.
Now I look into the void that has erupted. I do not know what is going to happen. I will try to stay within silence and wait for it to engulf me, or for the terrain to turn and carry me to a rock where I will lay waiting until you find me.
This is very nice, Nicole.
ReplyDelete"The silver you left me is not a silver of hope."
ReplyDeleteWhen one thinks about a "silver lining", the suggestion is that it's something good. Perhaps, not always.
Sounds like breaking away from something/someone that's causing pain. Or the desire to break away, but not quite ready or capable of letting go. But once freed, a desire to be found again by that same pain.
". . . for the terrain to turn and carry me to a rock where I will lay waiting until you find me."
Why do some people feel so attach to the things and people that's causing them harm?
When one gets burn, do they wait until their entire body is set on fire in order to know that getting burn isn't fun or good for ones health?