Thursday, May 19, 2005
I sit and ponder the hilarity of life, how sometimes in the toughest of times and the chaos of circumstances, all I can really do is laugh, because crying is no longer enough to soothe the wound. I laugh at your coldness, your silence and your body burnt to ash because I can no longer find the tears to weep.
When will I stop writing about your absence? When I believe that writing will no longer bring you back to me? No more darlings to call the same, yet my heart still saves a day for you. I thought that with your leaving, there would be someone here to take your place, but that would only be too easy, no? A mother placates herself with a dance, but the lines on her face tell it all; her tears stain, streaks that no makeup can cover. A brother replenishes your spaces with responsibility, with tangible, matter of fact things; he fills your shoes and has learnt to walk anew with the weight of a family on his shoulders. Another brother keeps his peace with silence; he helps others forget by seeming to have forgotten, but I hear his heart pound against cavity. I fill you up with songs, with words, with blacks and whites, with one sided conversations; secrets only you and I share. We all have our ways, our scientific coping mechanisms, our habits, our distractions; the things that we've learnt will bring us relief. But when will it be enough?
nel piu semplice delle parole, desidero che eravate qui, li manco cosi tanto
quando sara abbastanza?
sherry @ 10:01:00 pm
0 comments
