Suddenly after months in silence he decided to sail toward
her land, it was low tide when he arrived.
Although he was very engaging
and careful; to her was a flake approach –just an excuse for a clean cut, an
insatiable journey of collectible moments. She could not know if were fake or
real. In that moment he was like a squid that lives in most oceans but rarely
seen. The taste of doubt was rushing through her veins with insufficient
evidence to seal his fate. In a stranger way it seemed to become irrelevant to
her and she followed her intuition giving herself entirely to this fantasy that
she could have chosen to never be part of it.
I saw this woman heart bleeding, overflowing love. I could
hear the echo of her weak voice deafening silence thought the ferocious venues
of life. It was if I witnessed an unpleasant alienation of a crying soul
genuinely crashing in a life’s corner.
Why me? Why I have to cross her path at this late hour of
this harshly yet, cold night in Deer Valley, Utah?
I was hoping she was looking to the opposite side of the
valley.
I recollected no one other than me noticing her hurt feelings.
Everyone else was sporadically transpiring the adrenaline rush of a Bloody
Mary, mingling around the Garden of Fire; the smell of burning coal fusing with
the snow-covered mountain.
But what impressed me was that no one could see the fear in
her eyes. No one could sense her undeniable sorrow. Nobody had ever seen her
again, no one cares. Why have to be me interpreting her pain?
Why me?
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