A tear touched the still surface Ripples began to spread I forced my hand against the motion to stop the ripples from reaching the edge Shed unexpectedly without thought Nonetheless recognized - again Not wanting the tear to move or flow wishing it to be buried and drowned unseen The wave rose and crested Falling hard upon the sands of loss Grimacing with bared teeth The pain slipped and fell in the wet sand Pebbles beneath worn shoes Find their way into holes in the heart Sharing past lives lived in sun filled days Undefined measures of time tossed Touch when unaccustomed, burns Skin tender and bruised with mistrust A hand extends to grasp another outstretched Find the gesture was given to another The tear would not be stopped Ripples spread with rapid steps Dashed now against the edge A bowl of water inches deep
Posts tagged ‘living alone’
After eleven hours of sleep, I was not only feeling very lethargic but I was ill. The meal issues, the money issues, the writing, all of it left me exhausted. I couldn’t function. My friend, whom I try to chat with daily, was concerned. I had clammed up. I wasn’t my usual chatty self. That triggered a flood of emotions that even the Three Gorges Dam could not hold. I cried. I cried upon waking and reading my friend’s concern in an email. I cried as I dressed. I cried as I moved my laptop from the bedroom to the living room where I worked on my manuscripts. I cried as I looked at the refrigerator. I had no idea what was happening, but I cried regardless.
I did eat breakfast. A hard boiled egg. I choked it down between sobs. I made a cup of Earl Grey tea and sat down in the living room trying to cope with the massive emotional meltdown. Really, I was not eating much less than normal, and granted, I was used to a much greener diet, but to have this incredible gut wrenching mass of emotions was just not right. I tried to write. What I did write was tripe. I deleted everything I typed. I then did something I rarely did. I lay down on the floor with a pillow from the couch, put my back against the couch, and fell asleep. After eleven hours of sleep the previous night, I shouldn’t have been tired. I was exhausted and I had no recourse but to sleep it out.
When I woke, it was late afternoon. My stomach was growling and so I made another dish of pasta. This time adding an egg yolk to the dish of linguini, fire roasted tomatoes, tomato paste, onions, and garlic. I ate it all, then went to my bedroom and turned on my laptop. I watched old reruns of Night Gallery until it was time to chat with my friend. That was a bad night. I cried nearly non-stop and felt so bad about putting my friend in the position of having to try to make sense of the words that came out between the sobs.
I went to sleep right after our chat. I slept straight through again waking after nearly nine hours of sleep. This was not good and something had to be done.
Day Five over.
expelled openly upon skin
dark moist spaces
lavished on lust hardened pillows
sweat stained air
hit pain driven desired hands
mewling under twin sized sheets
laden heavily with remorse
the sharp edged, brutal silence of living alone, is often softened by the sounds of the live’s of others. the elephants that live above me, who march the length of their flat, as if in search of the next watering hole. the car alarm of the little metro, parked at the edge of the drive, that goes off when someone sneezes. the laugh of the children that live down the hall and make each pass by my door a parade.
i have my own noises too.
a whispered i love you to photographs. a hum in the shower; some tune i remember from my youth. the incessant march of kilowatts from an ice-maker not producing ice. the rolling boil in the kettle, another cup of tea for one.
if i did not live alone, these snippets of life would not be heard. the elephants march unnoticed, the car alarm unheeded, the laughter undiscovered.
even in it’s brutality, the silence is not unwelcome.