Sitting by the pale light of the last candles, she wonders
is it all worth it? Was it ever?
When was the last time she was truly happy?
Was it him or the one before?
Was it dancing on the beach in the moonlight?
Maybe out on the highway in the middle of the night with a cool breeze chilling her body as she walked
Silent, at peace.
Maybe it was sunrise up on the fort with friends.
What…ten? Fifteen years ago? Forever it seems anyway.
Was it warm wine in the burial ground on a cold winter's eve?
It doesn't matter now anyhow,
She's beyond the small joy of memories..
She is beyond most things now, she just wants to sleep
Maybe she could sleep long enough and they would just leave her alone..
The memories that is, who needs them anyway?
They either hurt you or remind you of things you can't have anymore.
That's why they're memories, past, over and done.
Just like her
That's how she feels,
finished.
The tears taste of salt and burn your skin if enough fall.
She noticed this years ago but it still surprises her now and again
In reality it surprises her that she still can cry..
In the dark of the night,
she awakens to a damp pillow and realizes that she isn't sweating,
she cries again
For her weakness, her pain, for her lost self
Beyond simple pain yet never quite beyond the tears..
