Source: What you lose in the breaking, and the leaving, and in the tearing up of things is not the weight of the burden of a flailing we, unravelling as it were, beneath the weight of the angst the uncertainty of ambivalent inquiry weaves in its wake. What you gain is not peace, or freedom, or the sense of soaring free; a relief craved like cold water on a blistering summer day - a breath drawn deep, air gulped a sigh of resignation at the certainty of leaving. ...
When the clock chimed in the New Year, I was cuddled up next to the girlfriend at the time. I had my feet on a foot stool, was sat in a couch in front of the television and was cradling her head as it lay on my chest, whilst we mused about the new year, and all the wonderful, beautiful things we hoped it would bring us. I had flown nearly 5000 miles to make this moment, and in the heat of the moment, life couldn’t have felt better. There was me, the one woman in the world I loved, and a bright and shining future ahead of us. If ever there was a fairy tale moment in my life, that was it. ...
I spent the whole week - and some - agonising over the pros and the cons of one last punt, asking EJ if we were done for good. It didn’t help that she took nearly a full day to reply my initial email. Yesterday, I finally worked up the nerve to make the phone call. It still took me six tries, before I allowed the phone ring through. We talked - whilst she was out shopping with a friend. The one thing that comes out of it all is that at best, we will be acquaintances, the odd phone call every so often, the odd email and simple safe gifts for birthdays if they are remembered. Oddly enough, I never got to ask her for a black and white response as to if we were done for good. She did seem very eager to get me back into the dating business. Guess by default, we are done, and yours truly has to wise up to that and move on, difficult as it might be.. :( ...
The sadness in her eyes breaks me, Willing me to reach across the breach of hurt; To hold her hand and tell her it was all a dream. The painful lustre in her eyes, As they glistened in the candle light that night Would draw me into granting a reprieve that is not mine. She seeks a place to leave her wish. Where, at the feet of a gentle wizened priest, She can be relieved of a flagrant breach, a love once spurned. ...
Sometimes I wish I could fly and take myself away, to a distant land far removed from the scorching sun that bakes my earth into a stony hearth and burns it into a barren wasteland. Sometimes I wish I could run Fast enough to escape this darkness that coaxes me into a frenzied song and to a fevered dance; of mindless tongues that sear my lungs and wear my tired soul. ...