(no subject)
Just a little piece before bed.
And so I wept there, reclined in the paled darkness with my gaze staring into the void of clouds. I wanted nothing more than to see the cold glow of the stars, yet I found nothingness. The nothingness within me ached as sure as I knew the snow would drift from the sky. Quietly, I wept tears that one could only hear if they pressed their head to my body and felt the hurt. If they could feel the trembling and hear my thoughts shifting through their fingertips. But, it was only me there, and I wept by his side while he rested. I wondered many things that night... I wondered what it was that I deserved; what it was that I was supposed to gain in this struggle. Why was it that I was filled with cowardice? A cowardice so strong that it repelled me from rousing him from his slumber so that he might know of my plight? I kept thinking of how angry he would be if he found out; how upset he would get just for knowing that he could have been there for me during my time of need. The idea of rousing him seemed worthless; there was nothing he could change in my life, and there was nothing I could have told him to make him think otherwise.
I remain terrified of the moment when he finally sees my tears shed. He'll say "Don't cry." I've seen many moons and I have yet to see the sense made from that statement. People are meant to cry just as the rain is meant to fall and the fire is meant to burn. Just as he is meant to breathe; just as I am fit for weeping. Though the absence is temporary: my heart breaks each time the sky is washed over with clouds. Perhaps the sky is hiding in the darkness just as I am. Perhaps we are one in the same. Just as the rain and the fire exist, so too shall my silent lamentations at the side of my slumbering paramour.
And so I wept there, reclined in the paled darkness with my gaze staring into the void of clouds. I wanted nothing more than to see the cold glow of the stars, yet I found nothingness. The nothingness within me ached as sure as I knew the snow would drift from the sky. Quietly, I wept tears that one could only hear if they pressed their head to my body and felt the hurt. If they could feel the trembling and hear my thoughts shifting through their fingertips. But, it was only me there, and I wept by his side while he rested. I wondered many things that night... I wondered what it was that I deserved; what it was that I was supposed to gain in this struggle. Why was it that I was filled with cowardice? A cowardice so strong that it repelled me from rousing him from his slumber so that he might know of my plight? I kept thinking of how angry he would be if he found out; how upset he would get just for knowing that he could have been there for me during my time of need. The idea of rousing him seemed worthless; there was nothing he could change in my life, and there was nothing I could have told him to make him think otherwise.
I remain terrified of the moment when he finally sees my tears shed. He'll say "Don't cry." I've seen many moons and I have yet to see the sense made from that statement. People are meant to cry just as the rain is meant to fall and the fire is meant to burn. Just as he is meant to breathe; just as I am fit for weeping. Though the absence is temporary: my heart breaks each time the sky is washed over with clouds. Perhaps the sky is hiding in the darkness just as I am. Perhaps we are one in the same. Just as the rain and the fire exist, so too shall my silent lamentations at the side of my slumbering paramour.