11 Sep 2013
I’ve got nothing.
I’ve tried. To make you see, to make you feel – this is me.
Only so many words can be written and said. Only so many metaphors I can make. The silence is deafening. The loneliness potent. You have it all and left me with nothing. I scratch the surface every day, but stop before it gets too deep. I can’t handle the blood, and you knew that from the beginning. The guilt is consuming and my apologies worthless. Some days I nurture, others days I abandon. I am the worst contradiction and your favourite prediction. A fifty percent strike rate, one out of 2, a chancer’s dream and a gambler’s nightmare.
No more can I do. Let’s call it quits. I’m taking the next train out of here. See you never, perhaps forever.
I saw her in the park today. Pushing against gravity with her legs, willing the swing higher and higher. She was reaching for the sky, the birds, the moon and the stars. She was almost there. She was surrounded by light and she was so goddam beautiful. I wanted to be her. I wanted to send her closer to eternal bliss and sunshine. I wanted to have her, all of her. But instead, I grabbed the cold chain, and with a jerking lurch, pulled her from her flight to fancy. She fell. Knees and palms flat into the dusty dirt. A startled cry. Skin yanked from flesh in purple-pink ribbons and crimson droplets. A sign of life and suddenly she is real.
I walked away.
I can’t handle the blood. But you knew that from the beginning