Do you ever have those days, where "it" is all wrong?
Where you don't know what "it" is, but it is.
incomplete,
as if you are a locked chest without a key,
or rather
a bird that will never fly.
As if you are weightless, slowly sinking into the depths of an inky abyss.
Except, your mind isn't that abyss
that abyss,
it is a mirror;
a reflection.
It is a reflection in the window of an old restaurant.
A memory,
you no longer want to remember.
That restaurant is a life,
your life;
a past life,
a life you forgot long ago.
It is the secret to a lover
you do not know how to tell.
A secret that forever spoils in the back of your mind, rotting.
Ever decaying, like the flowers
at the end of summer.
Have you ever felt wrong in your own body,
as you stand in front of "your" reflection,
among iridescent light
and
your feelings for the repugnant patterns painted upon your mother's bathroom walls.
And you feel wrong;
misplaced.
Misplaced like a toy's owner who grew too old to give love to them.
Wrong,
as if the body in which stands before you is not your own.
as if this is not the person who you see yourself to be.
For when you look into its eyes
as you lean over the stained sink.
Not feeling the cold water as you should,
The words,
"I love you."
never rebound off those blood-red walls.
Instead,
the cold nothingness washes over your fingertips as it brushes their paleness,
Instead,
your voice trails as you mutter words,
"I do not know who you are, anymore."
Instead,
this person who gazes back
is someone who was once loved;
someone you used to call,
"home"
But now,
before them, you recoil at their touch,
because
you can longer associate yourself as
kin to your own body.
YOU ARE READING
The Caress of Nightfall: a collection of short pieces
Short Story"Today, the mountainous rock's hum ceased without serenity. And today the Enclaira Sky became disjointed above our heads. Strides lengthened, today, as man's habitual wanderings became insignificant. A warning chastised "Today was foretold as humani...
