She stands in loneliness, drenched in the rain of emotions that come with age. Some things in life tattoo themselves onto you. They may be beautiful, but they leave you scarred for life. You can see it on her face and in her eyes - listless, restless and soulless. I understand. I do because we are haunted by the same story that was not meant to be.
When did it all start? My memory is kind of fuzzy. But something keeps singing in my ears, “Why do I think of you deeply every time the rain floats by?” The rain has its own story. There is a child of dew in envy of the birds. He prays to fly freely in the sky. An angel, touched by his purity, granted his wish. For a short while, he was happy. But with each thunder roar and lighting flash, he misses the calm and peaceful life more. Then a drizzle turns into rain and the rain turns into a storm. They all have their has their own story. She has hers and I have mine.
It is funny. How our timing plays these jokes on us. When I have an umbrella, it never rains. Then when I least expects it…. Timing, oh thou a cruel bitch. I would catch her tear with my finger and leave that sparkle in her eyes. Know that even though the letters stopped, my heart never did. I never wanted to say goodbye, but I did. Maybe I always believed we will meet again at the crossroads and everything will be different in a good way. The hellos, the how-are-yous, the eyes on eyes and a million other things tattoo themselves in my soul every day, every minute….. every second. And I still believe.
Until I cannot write any more words of pride and the thirst for words have dried. Until the reason is no longer enough for me to live in self delusion, life still goes on. She still stands in loneliness, drenched in the rain of emotions that come with age. But so do I.
When did it all start? My memory is kind of fuzzy. But something keeps singing in my ears, “Why do I think of you deeply every time the rain floats by?” The rain has its own story. There is a child of dew in envy of the birds. He prays to fly freely in the sky. An angel, touched by his purity, granted his wish. For a short while, he was happy. But with each thunder roar and lighting flash, he misses the calm and peaceful life more. Then a drizzle turns into rain and the rain turns into a storm. They all have their has their own story. She has hers and I have mine.
It is funny. How our timing plays these jokes on us. When I have an umbrella, it never rains. Then when I least expects it…. Timing, oh thou a cruel bitch. I would catch her tear with my finger and leave that sparkle in her eyes. Know that even though the letters stopped, my heart never did. I never wanted to say goodbye, but I did. Maybe I always believed we will meet again at the crossroads and everything will be different in a good way. The hellos, the how-are-yous, the eyes on eyes and a million other things tattoo themselves in my soul every day, every minute….. every second. And I still believe.
Until I cannot write any more words of pride and the thirst for words have dried. Until the reason is no longer enough for me to live in self delusion, life still goes on. She still stands in loneliness, drenched in the rain of emotions that come with age. But so do I.
1 comment:
For my friend who is confused:
It's never quite over. If you still having feelings.
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