Sunday, February 17, 2008
Their sighs reverberated inside me like echoes in the Alps.
Not all sad; some were happy beats...others, wearisome leaps.
I knew...I felt...I realized the indications
Because I, too, have been there before
The all time highs and all time lows pulling each other
back & fort like tug of war in the game we call life.
As the automobile transport me, passed the gleaming lavenders
I dreamt of your presence and positive disposition
I heard your raspy voice like a jolt then it was absorbed amidst the chatters--
the laughters of the old women and the murmur of mechanics
Alas gone, panicked, I searched for the vague familiarity i remember you by
In the crowd... the zombie faces of men & women
when I saw a reflection by the window's mirror:
somber and white, this girl's face told all what there were to be told
I wanted to look away but could not as my heart told me to face reality
The truth can be expensive; this one however, was of no exception
My ego...my self-preservation against who we were and then,
what kind of familiar strangers we evolved into
like the relationship I have had with all the passengers that night
Only I can tell a story out of actions & expressions
and your body narrated to me that you would never care again
You poor thing, such anger behind tiny eyes
What have happened?
The train passed by our usual stop and all the memories
within the short amount of period that we've known each
other came crashing back to me like tidal waves...refreshing but it hurt.
I saw two people's sillhouettes there,
a guy sitted and a girl comfortable in his lap and arms
two perfect beings happy together waiting of an ending full of unknown possibilities
When I knew it was too good to be real to see the same people
the sillhouettes disappeared like a dust storm.
Walking back to my place, I thought the numbing air will freeze me in
the streets along many of my memories have disappeared
My heart stopped beating, and I felt it frozen cold inside
When I closed my eyes that night, the undenyable feelings remained
Yet you were gone... you were not in my dreams anymore
you inhabited my nightmares asking me to give you one more too many chances
Of course I knew better
You were gone, you are gone...gone, baby, gone.
Labels: emotion, fictionized truth, goodbyes, Poem
My mind's unweaving/ 1:41 AM
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
She felt defeated. She surrendered all her opinions away to the great unknown--beyond the suburban houses and to the setting sun as she let herself listen to the voice on the other line. The memory of Desiderata abruptly appeared in her mind along with the authority-like voice of Mr. Lazaro reading it as if she was put in a trial of life. "...listen to the ignorant because they too, have something to say" repeatedly echoed in her mind. She was not about to loose all control over her senses so she moved forward and recollected herself back to earth as she truly let her bestfriend's words sinked in to her like a veil.
Darkness had over-ruled daytime for 15 minutes then, yet the cold, misty wind and the sad reality of street crimes infamous in the area did not intimidate her to "go home" and accept the fact that the once good space she had for meditation and creativity is a polluted room she can barely unwind into. She, however, made herself comfortable in the pavement near the LA bridge; she curled threefolds while tapestry of thoughts loomed above her like overwhelming curtains in a very tiny stretch. Her soul and heart agreed: she did not do any heartache provoking yet issues still obstructed her persona. Thus, a war between her right and the anonymous, surprising wrongs that she had cause, according to the person on the other line, abided greatly as it remained long enough for considerable casualties like the 100-year war.
As impersonal as the phone can be and distressing perhaps to talk about such deep issues over it--in between airwaves and distant miles--she thought a great deal of some "what ifs" in her mind. Like: What if she die tonight and everything is unresolved above her coffin? What if the people she had issues with will spend their lifetime holding pain, misery, irrevocably, grudges, against her? The teardrops in her wake, the dripping sound full of tingling hatred but in the end happiness as, she is alas, dead? So, she insisted that they both will spend their night resolving the issues and tackling down the cemented wall between them; for her, under the star-studded sky and the sighs of passerbys...for him in the other end of spectrum, the rush of automobiles. People put off what they can do today for tomorrow in hopes that time will be in their side but she realized that evening that nothing and no one will remain here forever. If its stress and long bickerings with her bestfriend can resolve the problems then she thought, let stress over-rule and arguements exist.
The past couple of weeks, she spent making a mile-list of the things she needed to work on, in her life. Life had been nothing but favorable. Problems blended in perfectly with the changing ways of the weather. Smiles were given now and then but the cycle of life continued to bombard her with the never-ending arrays of confusement and deep thoughts that could have poisoned her whole body. However, she continued to live day-by-day trying to connect with the people she supposedly "missed" on since she 'had spend all her time with a growing, unknowingly promising, relationship. If only they knew...
She lives for them; she constantly yearns for the love her home life fails to provide!
And there she was seated out cold, coughing and almost throwing up because her gut feeling reminded that without her bestfriend, she would not have many things to live for, besides materialistic contingencies. There were many rights to what her bestfriend was telling her although she secretly took offense for him from disregarding the fact that she has been a good friend and one that would not do anything to ruin any kind of friendships.
In the end "We're going to be fine..." was said with awkward sighs and she truly hoped that they're "going to be" so.
Labels: FICTION, friendship, unfictioned
My mind's unweaving/ 2:57 AM