I’m an addict, desperately searching for torture..
You’re my old high and, fuck, how it hurts… I laugh like a mad woman as my limbs twist.. crushing my bones against these bare walls.. skin burning, eyes bleeding.. willingly giving myself to the torment..
Stay.. be my demon. Rip out my ribs and make yourself home…
You’re only a glimpse of the days I could feel. And I can still imagine the feelings. The sweet thunder of agitation and longing; the desire, forbidden..
Gazing, wishing, waiting.. hopeful that perhaps it’s all an illusion; perhaps it will pass, unnamed and undiscovered. And every once in a while burning to have, or to forget..
And if you’ll never touch, or kiss, or own.. why bother waking the fondness? Oh, let it sleep in its silky covers and pretend it has passed, pretend it was nothing more than a childhood fever. And forget… If only until another dream, another recollection that you once knew how to feel..
He tried to whisper to her, and she could see that it was a struggle. She gestured him to be quiet, and stroked his hair gently, tears pouring down her face.. The rock she has leaned on for so many years; the man she has adored, loved and cared for her entire life, was slowly fading away right in front of her. And she was powerless. All the tears,the pleading and the prayers could not stop him dying, could not stop her heart breaking.
How could she be without him? How could she wake up tomorrow and not see him reading that paper in his chair, sipping his coffee too damn loud, calling her ‘Adi’.. Oh, how she hated when he called her ‘Adi’! Who would she shout at? Who would she tell off? He coughed loudly and she thought How selfish I am! How he’s suffering! She rested her head on his shoulder and tightened the hold on his arm. Please don’t die! she whispered.
He was weeping too and she kissed the tears carefully, knowing that it wasn’t death he cried for, but leaving her; it was her being alone that he was thinking of too. Her, walking around the house like a mad woman, not knowing which song to sing to face the pain. He knew her all to well.. she would sing that ballad about the lonely bird and she would cry, stirring the pots of soups and stews, filling the glasses of all the people who will have come to the wake. She would smile at them too, and tell funny stories about their life together. She’ll be strong, she’ll be…
Oh! If she could have it all again she could work harder, she could sleep less, or listen more;
Oh! If she could have it all again she would hold you! She would freeze time at the age when you still cried to be held, because the pain of hurting you is sharper than any blow she would happily take, if only to not see the sorrow in your eyes anymore..
That night you were staring at me, remember? When I said I don’t care if you are somebody else’s, I am yours. You laughed and thought I was crazy. You always thought I was crazy, maybe that’s why you never stopped being so selfish, so blind.
You used to say I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve all the love you’re giving me. I still don’t know what you meant but I used to believe. And even though I gave it all to you, you kept looking for more even when there was nothing left but an empty shell. My everything was not enough, you wanted more and I was useless.
Now I laugh like a mad woman when I think about you. You had so little to give and you gave me nothing, yet never stopped asking for more.
I became dark and small and tired of my nothingness, when you grew strong and proud with all that I’d given you. And you kept asking, demanding, until I had nothing left but darkness.
And one day I pulled back pieces of myself and threw them into my empty shell. And left. And now I fight to arrange the random bits into a human form, and I struggle to make myself look like a living being again.
And yet I know you’ll come back and take it all apart once more, and I’ll stand and watch like I always do; smiling, laughing and enjoying the show by your side.