They burn my face, the cut my skin leaving behind the proof of my emptiness.
I bear the scars of my love and my loss and the pain . . . The pain so sweet and the release so complete.
The oblivion and the darkness of death calls me to them. Or are they in me already?
The numbness spreads from within me, the ice.
The ice sharp as needles, from inside me slowly crawling to the surface.
To feel it. To feel nothing. To slowly give in.
Accept to be one, only one. In the cold, in the darkness, in the arid emptiness of human life.
I am in love because:
- He gives me Fuji apples
- He puts raw veggies on my plate
I am in love because he is him and I am me.
I walk through the darkness of my own feelings, guided by the hand of a man who . . . a man whom I don’t know. This realization comes slightly as a surprise, I don’t know him and our closeness has always been . . . fragile.
I am not in love, I am not in love, I am not in love.
A mantra, my mantra.
Lost, confused, powerless. What can I do to regain my power
She lays in the dark beside him, with her arm around him. I love you She doesn’t say it, it will freak him out. The change has already started and she knows the end is coming, this won’t last much longer . . . Maybe she should say it, what is there to loose? Only him She thinks, but she’s already loosing him and he never belonged to her in the first place. What a terrible thought . . . to belong.
And then it happens. Something so big, something so small. It breaks for everything and for nothing.
It’s just his excuse.
But she never said it and he will never know.