Grief
Grief
The blades sting deep in my chest asking me where did you go. A teardrop must have to answer for I myself do not know. Your body lays right below me but the soil wont let me see your eyes. You’re right there. Unreachable. Invisible. Your soul evaporated in a second and took with it the fainting lights that I called a life. The world is nothing but darkness. The sun above me is a hypocrite.
You once gave me an paper crane. Back when you told me you liked me. I reach into my pocket, I wanted you to see it, to know how closely I kept it. I wanted you to figure how important you were since I never gathered the courage to tell you up front. I hope you were aware of it in your last moments. I’m sure you were. Those smiles we shared, well, they spoke for themselves. I put the crane right below the tombstone. Can you see it? It’s right there, love. Waiting for you to come back. But you won’t. All that’s left is a shady burial sporting a name that I refuse to read. I rather thinking it’s my own one spelled over the granite. I like to imagine that all those tears shed are for my death but I know that if that were to happen no one would cry. Not anymore. You’re gone. And there’s nothing in this universe for me.
I was walking down the hallways just about to go home. I swear that I was thinking precisely about how calm that day had been and how comfortable I was with my hollow life. I thought I could go on living it. But right then fate took the shape of your hand and swatted away all of my illusions of a simple, empty tranquility with a tap on the shoulder. You caught up to me on the underpass of the last hallway before the exit. You said you had something to tell me and asked if you could walk with me. “I like you”. Just like that. Said with such naturalness it would’ve charmed a rock. Yet I feared you. I feared I would not be able to make you happy or, even worse, that I may end up hurting you like I hurt everyone and everything I touch. So I kept my mouth shut. And only told you not to feel awkward. I hugged you with the modesty of a pretended friendship and we both walked away. If you would’ve turned around you would’ve seen me pounding my head on the walls a couple of times. I was always a coward. Yet you didn’t care.
You walked the streets with me more times over the next few months and those were the happiest days of my life. Even if it sounds cliché. We talked about everything, trying to hide ourselves behind a curtain of frivolity. But when our eyes met, I, for one, think it was all said. You intoxicated me with your essence, your smell and your unique madness. How cruel you were to let me fall into you and sink chest-deep when you knew how alone I was. You were the only one who ever knew it. And still you left me. I feel guilty and selfish just saying that, but I cannot think of a truer statement.
The world is painted in monochrome and raindrops stain my hunched back like the blood of a million slaughtered angels. It’s cold here. Sitting in this lifeless world with these shallow beings. It’s dark. Like a desolate cavern sprung out of my worst imaginations. And I naively thought that I was used to the pain. That my little tragedies had prepared me for something. Tomorrow I will wake up and won’t be able to run to your arms for solace. And not a fiber in my body knows what it’s going to do then. I might just fall apart now in an entropy of cells. It’s so confusing to live knowing that the only treasure kept hidden in my gloomy corners lays frozen below my feet. Among dirt. If only I could reach you and dress you in white and place you in the clouds where you belong. So you could travel above the world which amazed you so much, and I could watch you pass over my head every day. So that we could be together.
I can’t bear the absurdity of my past acts. To think I held back because of nothing at all. Blocking you out with my black cape of sorrow like I’ve done with every bit of bliss that’s ever fallen upon my life. Only to be left with nothing but grief to hold between my tired, weary arms. Because I never held you the way I wanted to. Because I never kissed you like it was meant to be.
It was written for me to love you, and then lose you. I want to slay the writer. I want nothing more than to lay punishment upon the wretched god that could allow us to be standing in a corner deeply molten in a hug one second only to crush your path in millions of metal shards on the next one. Only to have me hear everything from your friends the day after that, and collapse. They’ll never understand it. They knew we talked a little but not much else, because you hid from them to be with me everyday. They thought I overreacted. It’s amazing how nobody noticed the world had lost it’s most precious asset.
Memories drift into my head wounding it with the mercy of a razorblade. My spine shivers with the thought of my return to the dead, menacing world of loneliness which I’d escaped by your hand. What’s left, I wonder? Damnation. A thundering, grim damnation to set upon my briefly clear skies.
The mud around my knees grows thicker, as if life reminded me my fate is drowned in quicksand that will never stop. Yet a flickering glimmer flashes through the smoke. I loved. I’m certain. The unrelenting tide inside my spirit won’t let me lie this time. In this kingdom of ash and rust where everything disappears like shadows over foggy mirrors, I found an eternal feeling that will stand undefeated after the rain is over and our names are long gone from everything mankind was aware of.
After the fire comes and crisps all our homes to nothing. When the land eats away all testimony of any living existence, and the stars become pale and vague before exploding into a hollow night sky no one will see, a wavering flag will still be raised among the perpetual dust and rubble of this ungrateful world. Faithful witness of us, and what we once felt.
Then the universe will look down in awe of this brave survivor and whisper its silent approval and smile and be satisfied of every moment of time before and after us, because we justified it with our purity. And maybe then white clouds can live again in some other universe for us to admire.
For us to be together.
Eternity is a long time, but if you wait for me, I’ll wait for you. Like the moon waits for the sun to come rescue her of her lingering darkness. A sunrise much like the one preparing in the horizon behind the blue hills on my back. For now the stubborn moonlight shines mournful in the water the storm left on the grove.
When I die, a new sunrise will be there for us.
Our crane dances in the puddles. Waiting.
You once gave me an paper crane. Back when you told me you liked me. I reach into my pocket, I wanted you to see it, to know how closely I kept it. I wanted you to figure how important you were since I never gathered the courage to tell you up front. I hope you were aware of it in your last moments. I’m sure you were. Those smiles we shared, well, they spoke for themselves. I put the crane right below the tombstone. Can you see it? It’s right there, love. Waiting for you to come back. But you won’t. All that’s left is a shady burial sporting a name that I refuse to read. I rather thinking it’s my own one spelled over the granite. I like to imagine that all those tears shed are for my death but I know that if that were to happen no one would cry. Not anymore. You’re gone. And there’s nothing in this universe for me.
I was walking down the hallways just about to go home. I swear that I was thinking precisely about how calm that day had been and how comfortable I was with my hollow life. I thought I could go on living it. But right then fate took the shape of your hand and swatted away all of my illusions of a simple, empty tranquility with a tap on the shoulder. You caught up to me on the underpass of the last hallway before the exit. You said you had something to tell me and asked if you could walk with me. “I like you”. Just like that. Said with such naturalness it would’ve charmed a rock. Yet I feared you. I feared I would not be able to make you happy or, even worse, that I may end up hurting you like I hurt everyone and everything I touch. So I kept my mouth shut. And only told you not to feel awkward. I hugged you with the modesty of a pretended friendship and we both walked away. If you would’ve turned around you would’ve seen me pounding my head on the walls a couple of times. I was always a coward. Yet you didn’t care.
You walked the streets with me more times over the next few months and those were the happiest days of my life. Even if it sounds cliché. We talked about everything, trying to hide ourselves behind a curtain of frivolity. But when our eyes met, I, for one, think it was all said. You intoxicated me with your essence, your smell and your unique madness. How cruel you were to let me fall into you and sink chest-deep when you knew how alone I was. You were the only one who ever knew it. And still you left me. I feel guilty and selfish just saying that, but I cannot think of a truer statement.
The world is painted in monochrome and raindrops stain my hunched back like the blood of a million slaughtered angels. It’s cold here. Sitting in this lifeless world with these shallow beings. It’s dark. Like a desolate cavern sprung out of my worst imaginations. And I naively thought that I was used to the pain. That my little tragedies had prepared me for something. Tomorrow I will wake up and won’t be able to run to your arms for solace. And not a fiber in my body knows what it’s going to do then. I might just fall apart now in an entropy of cells. It’s so confusing to live knowing that the only treasure kept hidden in my gloomy corners lays frozen below my feet. Among dirt. If only I could reach you and dress you in white and place you in the clouds where you belong. So you could travel above the world which amazed you so much, and I could watch you pass over my head every day. So that we could be together.
I can’t bear the absurdity of my past acts. To think I held back because of nothing at all. Blocking you out with my black cape of sorrow like I’ve done with every bit of bliss that’s ever fallen upon my life. Only to be left with nothing but grief to hold between my tired, weary arms. Because I never held you the way I wanted to. Because I never kissed you like it was meant to be.
It was written for me to love you, and then lose you. I want to slay the writer. I want nothing more than to lay punishment upon the wretched god that could allow us to be standing in a corner deeply molten in a hug one second only to crush your path in millions of metal shards on the next one. Only to have me hear everything from your friends the day after that, and collapse. They’ll never understand it. They knew we talked a little but not much else, because you hid from them to be with me everyday. They thought I overreacted. It’s amazing how nobody noticed the world had lost it’s most precious asset.
Memories drift into my head wounding it with the mercy of a razorblade. My spine shivers with the thought of my return to the dead, menacing world of loneliness which I’d escaped by your hand. What’s left, I wonder? Damnation. A thundering, grim damnation to set upon my briefly clear skies.
The mud around my knees grows thicker, as if life reminded me my fate is drowned in quicksand that will never stop. Yet a flickering glimmer flashes through the smoke. I loved. I’m certain. The unrelenting tide inside my spirit won’t let me lie this time. In this kingdom of ash and rust where everything disappears like shadows over foggy mirrors, I found an eternal feeling that will stand undefeated after the rain is over and our names are long gone from everything mankind was aware of.
After the fire comes and crisps all our homes to nothing. When the land eats away all testimony of any living existence, and the stars become pale and vague before exploding into a hollow night sky no one will see, a wavering flag will still be raised among the perpetual dust and rubble of this ungrateful world. Faithful witness of us, and what we once felt.
Then the universe will look down in awe of this brave survivor and whisper its silent approval and smile and be satisfied of every moment of time before and after us, because we justified it with our purity. And maybe then white clouds can live again in some other universe for us to admire.
For us to be together.
Eternity is a long time, but if you wait for me, I’ll wait for you. Like the moon waits for the sun to come rescue her of her lingering darkness. A sunrise much like the one preparing in the horizon behind the blue hills on my back. For now the stubborn moonlight shines mournful in the water the storm left on the grove.
When I die, a new sunrise will be there for us.
Our crane dances in the puddles. Waiting.