Kalopsia

That Girl

You might serve that bitter coffee as you like. Inside a coloured mug or a simple cup to look through. You might top it with cream or nothing. It won't ever change it's true nature.

That's the closest I can come to describing her. Bitter. Reeking of sweetness but every single drop devoid of it. Still your tongue would search for lingering traces of sugar despite knowing that there isn't any in the first place.

This girl, I won't tell you what she grew up to look like. I wouldn't want biases. Just knowing that she existed is enough.

You might, if you really want to, imagine her as someone standing behind frosted glass. A vague image, with no real features.

We were lovers. This girl that I talk about. It isn't a story of sugary confessions and sweet talks, just a fact that we were there for each other every single time one of us stumbled.

And I am not writing this out of a feeling of revenge. There is nothing to avenge. These words are the product of nothing else but utter helplessness. How long can one scream while silence echoes in their ears?

She is not the one to be blamed.

Time played it's little tricks on the both of us. When doesn't it.

She grew aware of what she was. That her skin was her own and no one else's. She was the owner of her eyes and her lips, her arms, her legs and everything in between.

I grew scared a little by little. For when she looked sweetly at me, eyes filled with love and lips spilling promises of heaven, her fragile fingers would curl around my throat, the tips of her nails painting a scatter of red crescents on my once untouched skin.

Now it no longer remains such. She is the owner of my soul and hers. The souls that were never quite apart are now clinging just for the sake of sheer hope of salvation from each other. It is difficult to explain how that works when we are made up of the same memories and words, just a different perspective.

We still remained when the other stumbled on their feet in a drunken haze. Not to help but to watch. Not to soothe but to pity.

If you might be wondering, I couldn't claim her as mine. Her wafting scent drove me to the edge of madness. Not yet ready for the fate that awaited me. And she knew it, kept feeding me the raw essence of her touch, leaving me craving.

She was chaos. And only one fitting for oblivion could have her in their arms.

But it doesn't waver the truth that she was just a girl. Silly and hopelessly gone.

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