But on somedays, the voices of betrayal were louder than the prayers of love.
Today was someday.
she’s curled up in her corner,
cold, shaking and in agonising pain.
She wishes she could give the pain a face;
call it a name and punch its face.
Her wrists burning, yearning for the familiar
touch of the blade;
the bullet had hit her from behind and was now yearning for an exit wound.
She wanted to reach out;
She wanted to cry till her lungs gave out,
She wanted to be held just to keep her from shattering.
She resorts to silence –
the paralysing fear of reaching out and finding silence on the other end takes her over; whispering sweet nothing about how she is simultaneously both too much and never enough. Her fears crawl through her left earlobe and seduces her brain with the memory of every dark night, teasing her with comfort of eternal silence.
Her every gesture is meticulous, every move is premeditated. She was a hazard, she was an accident, she was a threat to herself. There is a war inside her head between love and hate and today she was the one losing.
She scribbles dark fantasies and odes to death on the corner of a stained book to keep her hands from running to the blade. The scribbles calm her, but her brain was not done playing tricks with her yet. The mind runs through time like a forest fire, reminding her of every goodbye, every betrayal and takes a longer pause to reflect on the day it all changed. Her pains grow exponentially as she suffocates on her past, while she regurgitates on her present and hides from the future. She suffocates while a choir of thousand pins simultaneously pierces through her lungs. She suffocates while an iron wrist breaks her bones reminding of each and every scar that he left behind. She holds on to the edge of her sheets begging for mercy, praying her mind will set her free. She holds on to the edge of her sheets tears crashing down her cheeks, praying her mind would let her reach out.
She holds herself and sings a lullaby. Praying that she won’t shatter, praying she would make it out alive this time. She let’s love scream louder than the cawing of hate. Holding on to every single word that had saved her before, every single word that had made her smile – regardless of how scarce they were. She holds on to the songs love sang to her, she holds on to the many phases of love, she calls in all the faces of love hoping it would stop the bleeding. She holds on to every time love refuse to leave, she holds on to every time love refused to give up on her. She holds on to the screams, the tears, the worried faces that love threw her way each time she broke inside.
The blur gradually lifts while and she hears the beat of her heart again; love waltzes in to a slow symphony – mellow as could be, but stronger that hate.
She signs off on the edge of her stained book, with love, till next time.
on somedays, the voices of betrayal were louder than the prayers of love.
Today was someday.