When was the last time you ran to the edge of a cliff, and jumped?
I was asleep or so it seemed, I was underneath your veil and there was nothing I could say.
The stones that fell into the sea that day, it was like the sky separated as the sun began to sink and mould like lines of hot wax onto the sea. There are times where all I see are challenges, loss and despair, and pessimism. And yet, these same people who stab me with their shiny knives and their glistening eyes of deceit still extend a hand to me.
Was I a fool to believe in you and the avenues you took me down, as I danced circles around your pretty face, all in awe of the fool you are and would eventually be to me, as I gave you another chance, another change, another way out. I was blinded by the lightning that struck that day. And as the clouds cleared, so did any resolve I had, as it was carried along with the wind. I had closed my eyes for a hurtful moment and as I regained myself, you had disappeared.
Why do I feel as though I have lost, when I was and have never been found, not once, by myself or by you. What is this treacherous feeling consuming me like a weight in the pit of my stomach? This emptiness consumed me long ago, days had begun to become different shades of grey, different decibels of confusion and deceit entombed by pleasantries of people pretending to care, providing temporary release and salvation to the meek of the world.
I have passing visions of your face, you come to me at night and confuse me in the day. For what it’s worth, you do not know what you resemble, you do not know me, and some days words aren’t enough to allow you to sit up and take notice, for what would you see, what would you say to the things you did see, what you would do to try and curb the things you couldn’t control, every step of the way? I thought I knew you and what comfort was, when in reality, I only knew your face.
I am me, and you are you, but we are not one, nor are we recognised for ourselves. Are we going to walk aimlessly forever, merging parts of ourselves to others who cannot hold us, are we going to give ourselves away to empty avenues to say that we achieved something, to say that we belong? And so it was that I walked away, one foot in front of the other.
And the streets in the night air and the lights and the sound and the leers of the people and the lingering scent of cigarettes, all the things I see stay the same.
Though I'm not yet gone, I'm still not here. Movement continues still.
