I tried to cut it out—to stop the rapids from rushing the empty. A tsunami simmered beneath tiny ripples, I said, ‘Let’s stop’, and goodbyes in other words. Because saying it caught like barbed wire in my soft throat, “I feel for you”. I knew you felt nothing. Goodbyes stuttered at the ends of my thumbs because I felt what I considered long dead…. Until we kissed…I was a dead thing, perhaps a mirror of you. Tattered fragments scattered across the basin, worn and ground, fine and sharp after too many storms, too much friction, too much pain, fleshless broken bones—just sand.
Then my heart woke, and my soul burst in Aurora—electromagnetic, chemical awakening—
I was powerless. But I was just a child with her imaginary friend making sandcastles. I have a habit of loving those that can’t love me back—dead things too shattered to fly. I thought I was one of them….Then we kissed. I tried to say goodbyes in too many other words when I realised what you were between the lines, when the flowers I laid upon you withered and your pretence slipped. You were bored and I was a fidget toy within your reach. The sweetness masking the bitter fast dissolved. I tried to accept the end of your mornings and silence of nights, then you’d say, ‘Let’s do’ but we never did—you’d bail because of some unforeseen that I foresaw every time I said with hope, “yes”. I accepted your literal words to my catastrophe.
Now I’m hurt by the inevitable absence—the ghost I knew you’d become but hoped you wouldn’t. I foresaw it through the hope I was encouraged to dress in. You never really existed.
—Natasha )O(
Clan Witch & Word Refinery 