By the water flanked by green. I observe the grass and notice a bird perched on a cupcake discarded by the traffic lights. It takes a leap backwards and I frown. I scrutinise the creature and catch a glimpse of its injury. It tries again and narrowly misses a fall this time. I quickly write. The wind's unsettling the papers. As though it were fanning the embers of wistfulness that has found its way into my heart, about to be born out of my eyes in the form of water.
A helpful reminder that I'll always like to keep. The point where your face was reflected off every wall I crashed. Where every light screamed of your presence. Every sound, your name. I couldn't look anywhere. You remained vivid, the evil smell of your presence lingered in every breath I took. To the last image of a helpless shadow, under the swollen sheen of the moon. Desperately wanting to break free and find a new way. Watching it come down so close. To the part that connects to the heart. Before it finally made the mark and had the figure crumbling in angry tears. Freedom-is this the way you want it?
Blood, that has washed the sun this evening. It hasn't rained. The road is peaceful and the sound of the crickets fill the humid air. A symphony of desolation. It amplifies the agony sprinting through my blood that wants you to hurt so bad. Yet the gentleness of the water resonates: Pain propels me. Just like how we bleed sometimes to remind ourselves that we are in life. And in life, we can't expect everything to be forgotten.
You are far away.
