The sun beats down on a sultry sweltering summer afternoon as sweat trickles between the hills and down to the valley below , the forbidden zone , where no man has been allowed to enter since the day he left her crumbling into a heap of broken heart onto the floor of the room she hid herself in till she glued the pieces back together into some semblance of normal and moved on to what has become a passionless existence .
But every now and then she remembers how it felt before that time so long ago and the memory leaves her feeling a curious mixture of hunger and lust, yet she is unable, or unwilling to fulfill the desire with anything beyond mere words, so it is words she seeks , though she knows deep inside that words are words , and nothing more . And sooner or later words will run out and she will be left standing there with nothing . In fact she stands there with nothing even now, but this time she does not crumble into a heap of broken heart because she has become indifferent and indifference is her favorite kind of pain, one she cannot feel.
The night creeps in silently and she begins to write words and the words fill the silence that engulfs her and once again she feels nothing, and nothing is her favorite kind of pain .
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(Simple words written to and about no one and nothing)
this describes many people...put into words better than most can imagine...
ReplyDeleteoh ya, thanks for the selfie...
Oh, ugh, I deleted that awful picture. I was hoping no one had seen it before I did.
DeleteGreat post. So many of us have had a terrible heartache. Rebuilding our lives we do. ((Hugs))
ReplyDeleteThanks Greg, yes I am fine now. That was long ago, well a few years anyhow. It had an effect on me though...
Delete... again she feels nothing, and nothing is her favorite kind of pain ...
ReplyDeleteThud!
Hahah, did you hit your head when you fell ? Do I need to give you some mouth to mouth ?? Maybe a little tongue with that ? ;-)
Delete