Feet

For Sumani

Sumani in Anuradhapura, Sept 2010 – just 3 months before her passing.

 

A house – not empty

But left cold by your absence

Chills me more than the

Weather outside.

.

I step inside,

And feet already cold from the outdoors

Get colder still

Despite safe haven from the wind.

I take a hesitant step towards the

Gloomy black of the back rooms –

Once your cheery domain

And my happy playground.

.

Today I force my feet

To move in that direction.

.

Another step…

…and yet another…

Each weaker and more faltering than the last.

.

My foot rises once more,

Hovers in still air,

The step incomplete.

Suddenly shy, it drops back a pace,

Whirls on its axis,

And bears me away from your memory.

.

Too soon.

* Continue reading Feet

Love. Lost.

Sadness inspires – I find the connotations of this rather grim, but I still can’t deny the truth of it. Why doesn’t happiness have the same effect, I wonder? Some of man’s best work was created in fits of rage, anxiety, insecurity and extreme pain.

A sad story is always a good story. I don’t like it at all, but I am a child of the same monster.

Even now as I feel my heart is breaking once again, I feel the need to write.

Is it because I need distraction? Is it because I need to get the ache out of me and writing is the only way I can do it? Or is it simply because sadness awakens creativity for some mysterious reason?

I don’t know. I don’t even care. I just want to write. Continue reading Love. Lost.

The Fight

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Lights off.

 

She closes her eyes, savouring the inky blackness, feeling it wash over her skin. Cool. Slinky. Soft.

 

She doesn’t recall where the light switch is, but she doesn’t care… She can’t see anything but the black and it’s a total mind fuck. Standing still, she could be in a tiny box, just big enough for her frame, or in an endless expanse of nothing. Standing still she’d never know.

 

She closes her eyes and waits for him. His warmth against her cool skin. His stubble against her smooth cheek. His larger frame, enveloping her small one.

 

One disappearing into the other. Both disappearing in the darkness.

 

If the real thing is anywhere near as good as she remembers… “Mmm” she murmurs to herself, waiting, aching, wanting.

 

The touch comes.

 

Her eyes fly open.

 

Something’s wrong. Continue reading The Fight

Darling

 

I’ve finally run out of things to say to you. Run out of ways to explain how much it hurt when you left.

 

How bright the spark of hope was when you asked me back only to push me away again. How the brightness of each spark dimmed every time it happened. And it happened a lot.

 

Our little cycle.

 

I thought it must mean something that we couldn’t stay away from each other. Surely it must. But every time you proved me wrong. Every time I wound up alone, missing you, with the terrible knowledge that your thoughts of me were being constantly overshadowed by thoughts of someone else.

 

You say you want me but how can I ever believe those words from you again? Everything you have done has gone against it. Continue reading Darling

The awakening

walk_away_by_iza873

  

I woke up this morning and wished I hadn’t.

 

Memories of the night before immediately sucker punched me in the stomach and I was fighting to breathe for a few minutes, clutching my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that by some miracle that I could disappear. I looked at my phone. He had given up trying to explain.

 

As I turned my face towards the jet of steaming hot water in my shower, I wondered when I’d ever felt so irrelevant. So like I just… didn’t matter. I wondered how he could even try and tell me that I wasn’t after what he had done. There was no anger so much as absolute sadness that this time, unlike all the other times, it was actually over. He claimed it wasn’t over for him but for the first time, it was over for me.

Continue reading The awakening

Bang, bang…My baby shot me down

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My heart broke again last night.

 

But I think it was for the last time. Finally. For the last time.

 

 

Strong inadvertently told me that he was in love with someone else. He proclaimed it to the world and for the first time, I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

 

 

That knowledge should kill you. It really should. You should be able to just stop breathing. Stop existing. You shouldn’t have to exist carrying that with you. Like a bullet that stays embedded in the flesh, festering, poisoning.

 

I had known it all along. I could tell, every time he said her name, I could see it in his eyes when he was at his lowest, drowning in wave upon wave of anguished guilt about how he treated her.

 

I never inspired emotion of that magnitude within him, although he inspired that within me. Everyday I loved him. Everyday he didn’t love me back.

Continue reading Bang, bang…My baby shot me down