It begins with me being me. My brain has fully malfunctioned and I am truly beyond repair. My heart is torn between the sheets and my dreams are becoming nightmares. There is prose in the poetry of my mind, but it isn't setting itself upright. It is falling by the wayside, and it is wishing it were nothing more than a simple smile that says "hello" on a rainy, dreary day like today.
The sun is shining brightly, burning my eyes. Tears fought back with deepening breath keep stinging anyway. The reality of being put in my place, reminded of what I am and not what I pretend. Now, all I want is to set me free, to fade away, to no longer be. If I let go now, no one will catch me. If I let go now, there will be no one there.
There are mysteries that unravel themselves, tied to my bedposts, wishing they were not the knots of time and time's circumstance. Waiting patiently for the end, I caress the sides of his face, look into his faraway eyes, and see that he doesn't wish to see me but how I stay in his sight anyhow. He's enjoying his reflection in my eyes while looking straight past. I'd follow his gaze, but I know where it leads. I don't like to be reminded anymore, but he reminds me every day.
It's unhealthy, unwise; I simply choose to think it's unfortunate. Time is a cruel and unusual creature. She is fought with breath, heartbeats, and tongue lashings. We like to think she is changeable, tamable, that we are the ones with power. The beauty is in how she simply continues without care, and how we cannot help ourselves in desperation of her mercy. She smiles quietly, unaffected by our meaningless pleas.
She's in the words she thought I didn't want to hear, the touch he thought I didn't want to feel, the smile I thought they didn't want to see... She's in the tears we wipe away, the anger we try to hide, and the sadness we hold inside. She's the ripple in the water, the mound of earth beneath our feet, the inaudible heartbeat, the last sigh of breath. And so it begins, the beginning of the end.
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wow. a lot of feeling in this one...my favorite line that i am still unpacking is "There are mysteries that unravel themselves, tied to my bedposts, wishing they were not the knots of time and time's circumstance."
ReplyDeleteI agree with Brian... that's a brilliant line. The following one, however... hmm...
ReplyDeleteGood, though. Nicely edited and amended.
"Time is a cruel and unusual creature", indeed!
ReplyDelete"There are mysteries that unravel themselves, tied to my bedposts, wishing they were not the knots of time and time's circumstance". I think this is profound but I will need to re-read it half a dozen times to be sure.
ReplyDeleteVery creative and a lot to ponder! Cheers!
ReplyDeleteAww see, I just think you need a nice cup of tea and a big hug. Chin up Chook (spot the non-intellectual amongst your commenters). Seriously, nice imagery but sad.
ReplyDeleteThe beginning of the end is a sad time, indeed. Poignant piece.
ReplyDeletewhy is Time always a girl? Something to do with ticking timebombs?
ReplyDeleteLove the imagery, sad though it is...
ReplyDeleteWow. Great post, wonderfully written.
ReplyDeleteIronically, or coincidentally, I was thinking of something similar today, about how nature just goes on, has no concious thought of us or what we do, or don't do. Just keeps on, like time, doing it's own thing.
Makes me feel even smaller in the whole enchilada.
You create feelings of depseration, sadness hopelessness- well written.
ReplyDeleteSad,sadder,saddest tale of beginnings,Full of imagery and swirling mist. Most unusual post.
ReplyDelete