The tumbled forms struggled blissfully for coherence, a battle more easily won with cigarettes in their mouths, each toxic breath a reminder of the existence of bodies. Heartbeats outside of emotion. The two wrapped and rapt forgotten by the spacial scenes of song and drinks and too many parties were set outside of their former realm. Without the regular smiling appearances consisting more of glances than conversation with the sad revelers, so sad they thought they were joyous, the two fell into the season. Gone were the summer's travels and stories of well-being and kinship. Replaced with the lure of deadened leaves and covered bodies, woolens intruding upon the shiny lotion-skinned bare-legged wonders of a season passed. The death of summer could be no less mourned as the season changed from groping to embrace.
Crazed ghosts cry into faded repose, responses unlimited by depths. Voids turn from eternity to closeted incarnation. Forgotten hindrances tying backwards, binding throats and cries. Sceptered threats face the unknowing pushing shoulders down from pride, into submission's hidden glance. Creation cries for a hand to pull us above the fray past this wretched mess of darkness. Into the glow but is it holy? Only from a distance until we find our bodies alight and the glow becomes a glare in which illumination is damnation and the lights change to fire. We burn with our faces pressed.
...Sometimes silence shows us beauty, strength and grace. Sometimes it shows us death. Always know the difference.
It was fall, the very beginnings of it. The air was still humid but the undertone was colder. That time in mid-September, right before the solstice. The season change hasn’t happened yet but you can feel it turning everywhere. They always say that summer is the season for romance, but I’ve never found that to be true. Summer love never happened for her. It was fall that brought it always. Fall was her season of optimism, of hope – the harvest, the promise, where her body felt fertile, ready to burst. It is the seasons where everyone looks their most beautiful. The summer sun kissed bodies haven’t faded yet and they are in their leanest form.
(So why must I cry through clenched teeth?)
“I feel good, I really do.” She said tugging at the high ponytail perched in the middle of her head.
“You look great. Really great. I mean really.”
“People keep telling me that. It’s amazing what getting it can do for your body. I feel like I look better but more importantly I feel better.” She’d said those words a million times. She didn’t care a damn about feeling better, she didn’t feel better only felt a different kind of bad and lord knows that looking better was number one.
“Yeah, I mean you’ve lost weight, your body looks great but it’s more than that. It’s your eyes, your skin, they look clear, you look healthy.”
“I feel healthy.” Lies all lies. Say just a little bit more. Her throat was stripped raw, bruised on the inside.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment