Jammed. Unbudgeable like the old, rotten wooden window frame that’s stuck after a heavy rainstorm.
Memories are easy to make. They often choose you but are tough to shake off. They won’t fade until they have taken every single ounce of your soul.
Broken. Like shattered glass.
Splinters strewn. Uncountable, out to draw blood.
Unhinged mind. Fragmented souvenirs. Every time you touch upon them or try to gather it all, they end up searing through your soul.
Musty. Damp, dank smell of stagnancy.
Never moving, rigid and permeating.
When the mind is stuck, the rut seems too deep. The walls close in, slowly but unfalteringly.
I have been stuck in a rut for a while now, three years to precise. Maybe longer. Each time, I feel I am drowning, I have quit whatever I am doing but stayed put. I did not think of addressing the elephant in the room. Until recently. At least, I am aware of my affliction now. I am still not doing anything about it but the walls aren’t closing in. It’s a long road ahead.
Picture courtesy: lifegiva.com
Don’t mind me please.
I wrote a letter to you many times over.
A long one.
It held my feelings –
How I felt about you.
How I missed you.
How much I missed you.
The letter described what we would do,
If we ever got together.
How we’d smile, laugh until our stomachs hurt.
Of shared meals, pillow fights.
Stories told and secrets shared.
Only I never penned the words.
The letter I almost wrote to you,
Stayed with me as you never did.
Perhaps, in another time,
On another day,
We’d enjoy the sunset far far away.
You and I’d stand together and smile,
the twinkles crinkling your eyes.
As we would plan the rest of the days of our lives.
You’d hold my hand, warming the chill in my bones,
As I would drink the unspoken promises, drowning my groans.
But, if only it were true.
You & I stand today, not together.
The smile causes no crinkles,
As the fabric of time gathers wrinkles.
I have stopped seeking,
For what I have lost,
Cannot be found.
I wander for things,
Visible but unseen,
Felt but untouched.
I watch, I see, I grasp,
On the ebb and flow of life,
I am scar,
A deep, weeping gash.
Bourne of laborious pain.
Of echoing vain. Spent with sweat with nothing to gain.
I am a scar.
To be remembered.
A longing to be cherished, in vain.
I am a scar.
Wounding you deep within.
Gnawing your inside.
With time, I will abide.
I am scar.
Borne from your love
Never to be held again
Regret as you much.