Saturday, March 27, 2010

close that

it's suddenly so, so silent - shudder. sitting on the edge of the bath watching slants of warm sunlight glide in to beat on the white, cold tile floor your toes are touching. and what do you care how cold i get? after all, cold only means awake. and that's what you remember isn't it? how cold things got.
each slant like a memory. fading as the minutes pass. but you're staring, glaring, entertained by the memories that possess you. her delicate laughing, eyes that were neither blue or navy. navy, definitely; that's what made them so special. they've been teasing you for weeks with their absence.
each slant like a memory. fading.
now it's time to give the transparent, warm water the permission to wash it all away. but this water is useless. you can barely feel it. spilling down your back, strumming your body, gently. like a weeping willow on a summer's day.

after, you crawl into the bedsheets that you loved, that float over your skin. they can finally keep you warm - she kept you cold for so long... but dragging the duvet above your waist is like pulling the carpet up from the floor and the weight feels almost impossible to hold.
the dark only invites the thoughts of her. maybe you liked the cold?
time to sleep.
...the door is half open. you'll have to get up and close that.

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