Time passes and I still end up saying your name, when I told myself I wouldn’t let it slip out of my lips. Memories are still clear as ever, painfully so, although they’re starting to merge into one colossal dream that managed to become a nightmare in a matter of seconds. I wonder if you wonder, the way I wonder. I wonder if this is just a writers mind. Lost, confused, scared, hurt, sad, lament, pain, excuses, replaying, broken, worthless. –– These are just some of the words that come to mind, when I think of our final chapter. They taste rancid in my mouth, and I spit them out on days I remember our story. Your face is not in focus anymore, which helps keep you out of my mind. Some days you creep in anyway, with your blurred features and fuzzy outline. I know I could focus your image if I really tried, but I don’t want to see your face, I’d rather see your back, so I remember you’re in my past. I wonder if you wonder, the way I wonder. I wonder if this is just a writers mind. When I say your name I regress to when it was said with a fearless love, now it’s said with a fear of love. When I talk of my experience I regress to when our separation seemed ludicrous, now it seems ludicrous to think we were ever that close. I don’t think about you often at all, but when I do it’s surreal. You were all I knew, and now you’re my ignorance incarnate. From nothing to something, from something to nothing; life is insistent with this cycle. I wonder if you wonder, the way I wonder. I wonder if this is just a writers mind. © Rocio Belinda Mendez
Posted on: Thu, 05 Jun 2014 16:49:40 +0000
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