I thought the seams had fallen apart,
But you came to me with open arms.
And in such sweet celerity,
You picked me off of my feet.
She said to me she’d cut anyone off,
If it meant that they would bring her down.
But she abruptly looked at me,
With panic in her eyes,
And with both hands out in protest,
She said, “No, not you. I would never cut you out from my life.”
The sun scars the right side of my face. I sit on this tiled table, and the usual sets of chairs are here – two plastic, deteriorating seats and the other a cushioned fold-up. There have been few additions to this place – most being a build up of leaves that had found their way through the open windows. The penultimate window from the door has been shattered, now replaced with thin polyster and duct tape crosshatching the pane.
I find myself sitting in retrospect. Not long ago was I placing footsteps in a place I had once despised. The initial motivation was to bring myself into something I hadn’t seen for so long, something so beautiful, so serene. How the reflected ripples would cut through the blocks on that ceiling is something you can only admire in the bright hour of the afternoon.
A part of me wished for a walk around, but reality didn’t play so nice. I could only stop myself 5 metres ahead, and only reimagine the field that laid beneath the corrugated sheets that sheathed the skywalk. For so much hatred that led me to crawl with my hands tied behind my back, my feet anchored at the ankles, I find myself looking back with a silence even I cannot describe.
The walks back and forth, the golden hour that would bring light to our smiles, no matter the fact that almost none of them were real. I am beginning to realise that though I have put these times before me, I now have the second chance to welcome them back into my arms with a better understanding from both sides.
I have seen my friends progress in a way I had once felt. Beit by struggle or experience, I am happy. It is now that we are one at the eye, with palms up and bitterness thrown away. After so long, I have finally been able to open up a shell I have kept myself in for far too long around them. For once, I am me.
Imagine the morning dew. The cold as it hits you like silk. You look out to trees, a washed out sky, everything so still yet alive.
The sun is out bright, but the breeze hugs you close. You have your hands around a warm mug of hot chocolate, steam dancing in the empty air. Take a sip, breathe the air in. Then come back to this awful reality.
In the midst of a hollow forest, you will see a man. Under swindled trees looming above, he will look at you and jester you to come over. With his rotting shoulder bent to one side, face with burnt scars, his bright eyes are filled with darkness, and he gives you a sweet smile.
“Come with me,” he says. And you take what’s left of a hand.
I’ve never seen such a look in someone’s eyes. I wonder what you saw when you looked into mine.