I stare blankly at the white dots spread out on the dark canvas above. Another day has passed, a sinking feeling once again welcomed by me. I look around the old familiar place where once stood my old self, a little puddle of water at my feet reflecting my reflection. Dark circles under my once kaleidoscope eyes, I try to crack a smile, but it quite never reaches my eyes. Staring at me is an older lady, a woman, too mature for her age. The intensity in her eyes, pleading for something. Her longing suddenly starts to creep up on me, so I look away.I walk along the aged street, examining the changes it has gone through in the past years. The warm hearth opposes the waves of memories soaking me. Noticing a greeting of a familiar smile, I blink. Laughter erupting from our stomachs, a tight embrace, I blink. Hearty conversations, beverage in hand, I blink. Intertwined fingers, wide grins, I blink. I blink once more, everything I once memorized vanishes before my eyes. It is nothing but a ghost of the past tracking me down. I place my hand on my heart and try to calm myself down. Breathe.
Without noticing, my feet walk on the familiar path leading to the stone-colored church. Now standing in front of the grey marble, I let myself break. My loud sobs, silent screaming into my hands, probably have the power to wake the peaceful. All I can do is ask questions even though I know no one will heed to answer. I treat the cold air and the longing pain as my friends. They envelop me in a warm hug.
I thought that coming back will get rid of the melancholy. I thought that coming back to what I once called home, will give me what the older lady was longing for because I cannot live with her disappointed looks and long frowns anymore. I thought I did the right thing, going back, retrace the path I knew because maybe that is the way to grasp the old pieces but how stupid of me, to jam the pieces that clearly does not fit now. Maybe it is really my fault, I came to look for contentment, but here I am, drowning in the hollowness of it all, falling in deeper into the abyss.
I failed to realize that the minute I took the first step, away from this place, I am not welcome anymore.
- g.b.
BINABASA MO ANG
things i'll never say out loud
Poesíamy most vulnerable written through the art of words. 🏅#1 in literature 🏅#1 in sad poems 🏅#2 in prose 🏅 #26 in poems 🏅 #40 in tula 🏅 #49 poetry