I couldn't seem to do it. I tried and it didn't come, none of it did, they were my love, they were what gave me purpose, and I couldn't seem to do it.
There was life, before all this. There was life but now it was turning into a desolate desert. There was life but all I saw now, was a listless being, flaccid in the arms of time. Desperate and clawing. Flailing. In the end, flaccid again. Numb.
I could see it, it was slowly dying. Before my eyes, before my knowing gaze. I watched it succumb to the forest of fears and sins. I watched how dense it was.
So I walked here. Not with my feet, that was not possible. I walked with my mind, I visited some memories.
The most prominent one, the one that brings a smile to my face, is of old arms and clipped smiles. Perhaps, there weren't any smiles at all, and my tired mind, in its attempt to find an anchor, has weaved a lie with the reality to encompass my wishful thinking.
The old arms were never weary, when I look at them now, they are nothing but. Its the trembling lip, that only murmured prayers, I will never know if it's what they do now. If I do ask, the deaf ears will never answer.
So I have walked again, and now I am here, a little farther. This is old too. Its not the arms, however, it's the town. It's the freedom there. The people who have surrounded me, and when my eyes open, they have smiled, they have taken me in their arms, and they aren't old, they are firm, they still are. They aren't as warm, sadly. Its not anyone's fault. There's a little ache there, but it's still somewhere I'd go back again. Lost warmth, that doesn't mean it has lost its value. Sometimes when I'm burning, it's the only place I can go.
I was not burning now. I was rather cold. I have loved winters, and I have loved cold. I don't seem to love it today.
So I walked again, deeper now. I'm holding the same old arms again, I'm walking. I have admired the birds in the big cage. Each time I'm back here, it brings an ache in my heart. Not only an ache, but melancholy, and agony, so acute and right here, right in my chest. My heart contorts.
So I walked again, away from my agony. I'm burning now, so we'll walk down the lane, into the old town, with narrow gravelled streets, with goats bleating and people looming on their gates. They are watching me.
They have watched me since before. And what was before? Before all this, there was life. They have watched me when I was a blooming life. I am now a desert, an empty pavement with no footfalls echoing on it.
So I walked again, and there, I am sleeping beside you, and dear god, how beautiful that was. How beautiful you were. More than those caged birds, this brings a pang in my chest. I have hated you and I have loved you now. I had loved you then. Your memories are inked in blank pages, I'd have to squint to reach them. I was the one to erase them, after all. One comes to mind, of you, and of me. Of ages ago.
You smiled at me. I was leaving. I had been wearing a pink sweater.
It aches.
I'm not the same person.
I'm not whom the old town roads watched. I'm not whom the old arms held, I'm not who watched the caged birds, walked with heavy boots, I'm not whom you called a liar, for I lied that I didn't sleep. I was merely thinking.
You said I shouldn't lie. You had tickled me and I didn't wake up.
I can't wake up now.
I'm not me.
You, the old arms, the old town, so many more memories that I didn't touch.
And how can I?
They only bring agony.
I shouldn't touch shadows.
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Intro - xx
NouvellesJust a couple short stories, because short stories are everything, really.