I haven’t written about you yet. I’m not sure why. I’ve written about many of them, but not you. Did you not inspire dark emotions? I thought you did. Did you not reach my core? I felt it sink. Or is it simply because I feel too much and will not allow myself to delve into the depth, as I usually do?
Let me write about you now. Let me write about your small eyes. They did not peer into my soul, but I think they yearned to. And your thin lips, which at certain angles looked plump and full and I wanted to pounce on them like pillows. I liked the way you moved your hands. Your fingers were long and thin, but strong, and your wrists held them firmly when you waved them around as you spoke. Your body - lean and fresh, tight and tasty. I liked to grab your arms and stroke your smooth skin. Did you like to touch mine? Your teeth were like tablets, straightly aligned, your nose protruding like he wanted to be heard and seen, your hair was slight and wispy, like a warm summer breeze.
Let me write about you and me now. Let me write about us. Did such a thing even exist? It feels so surreal to me. Our first kiss. When you made me laugh. When you saw the freckles in my eyes, as the sun hit them. When I cried in front of you. When you held back your own tears and my heart leapt because your emotions were dancing in front of me. When you first took my hand in yours. When we looked at art, and sat in a movie theatre, and had a picnic on the grass, and you brought me yellow roses, and I beat you in Boggle, and you beat me in cards and we wrestled like siblings. When I borrowed your clothes and wore them to work. When you lit candles. When we danced the tango, naked, in your room. When you stood behind me, your hand wandering up my dress, as I stirred brownie batter in the kitchen. When we joked about gnomes and lumps and other silly things. When we hiked to a waterfall. When you stroked my back early in the morning as I slept in my twin bed. When you forced me to eat tuna fish. When I expressed my fear and you held me. When you didn’t say anything.
Let me write about what’s left of me now. We are no longer. Just me. And you. I feel broken. I do. I feel abandoned. I feel…unhappy. Why didn’t you want to jump for me? Why did you lay in the lawn chair, sunbathing, as I was drowning in the pool? You watched my body slowly sink. You didn’t care to save me. All I wanted was to save you.
You still exist. But now you live somewhere far away. Somewhere I am not allowed to go. I have been banished, exiled from the place I called home. I don’t know if I want to go back. An evil ogre lives in that land. An ogre who told me things I didn’t want to hear, who hurt me, who didn’t listen to me, who didn’t want me. A gentle lion lives there too, one whose purr comforted me in times of sadness, whose strength made me feel safe, and who gave me great joy.
I tried to sneak back once, back into this forbidden forest. They kicked me out – the guards. They grabbed me by my frail wrists, tied them together with twine, and shipped me back to my jail cell. So here I am. Sitting, wondering – do I rot behind these bars, within these four walls? Do I try to escape once again and return home? No. I will look beyond the barriers and find myself again.
Posts
