Another night fell, and entailing it, another dawn broke down, then came with it, another cup was filled, of coffee freshly brewed. The vivid black was stirred, and stirred, though bitter it stayed. The more bitter, the stronger the effect, they said, but the only thing that stuck with the bitterness was its scent, failing to claim its ability to heal the aftermath of the weeks long insomnia. The holding only grew weaker the further the steps were taken to revisit the memory that came with the first sip — of how it all started with the forbidden stolen glances.
Of the pair, which were planets of their own, their forest thick and green, the truest embodiment of spring, frozen in time, putting a weight of shame to the emeralds bejeweled in any king's crown, incomparable to its beauty, dimming slightly only when the lids squinted closed before a curve formed on the lips — crafting that one smile, that seemingly had more capacity to warm the lasting winter than any cup of coffee could, keeping everything steady. The temperature dropped now with the absence of the curve being the center of the gravity to hold it, low, low, low, even as Spring arrived.
One step forward, three steps back — a solo waltz with no one but the worst of luck. While the mind walked in and out of the nostalgia, the body was kept locked inside the tiny shell still, too ashame from its nakedness to present itself for a public view as a broken product of fate's wrong-doing, with an opened wound the size of a fist becoming both the hole in the chest and lump in the throat. But with the passing moments, the walls moved closer, eating the space out until there was no tile left to dance, tightening the suffocation and trapping the soul within, away from anyone's grip, and it wanted out.
By God, it wanted out.
No comments:
Post a Comment