Suddenly out of nowhere, I started to write this. When my mind said write, I had to. And now I know why..... Poetry, prose, I don't know what to call it.
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Icicles form on the walls invisible to all but me. I notice because I feel the coldness seep into me. I grab your arm, which is not there. At least not for me. When you speak, I shut myself in savouring the words. Merging it with my thoughts. I have memories of the stupidest things. Like the way you slurp you tea. Or scratch the back of your head. Forgetting the important ones. That is, your plans about our future. Which excludes me.
Regrets. What of it? Words I did say? Or the words you didn't hear? Does it matter? And in what form? Solidified? Out in the open is claustrophobic for me. I can't breath you there. With everything that is beyond me, I did what I could. I did what I had to. Looked at you. With closed eyes. Spoke to you with non-words. Common courtsey compelled you to compromise. If only for a while. You were there talking to me. I was there, not breathing.
In the book I never wrote, you are forbidden territory. Familiarity of it consumes me, splitting my guts. Reality of the imagination is the mirror of my thoughts. Locked in the attic with a rusted lock and non-existent key. Serves me right, wouldn't you say?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Icicles form on the walls invisible to all but me. I notice because I feel the coldness seep into me. I grab your arm, which is not there. At least not for me. When you speak, I shut myself in savouring the words. Merging it with my thoughts. I have memories of the stupidest things. Like the way you slurp you tea. Or scratch the back of your head. Forgetting the important ones. That is, your plans about our future. Which excludes me.
Regrets. What of it? Words I did say? Or the words you didn't hear? Does it matter? And in what form? Solidified? Out in the open is claustrophobic for me. I can't breath you there. With everything that is beyond me, I did what I could. I did what I had to. Looked at you. With closed eyes. Spoke to you with non-words. Common courtsey compelled you to compromise. If only for a while. You were there talking to me. I was there, not breathing.
In the book I never wrote, you are forbidden territory. Familiarity of it consumes me, splitting my guts. Reality of the imagination is the mirror of my thoughts. Locked in the attic with a rusted lock and non-existent key. Serves me right, wouldn't you say?
31 comments:
Very humanly romantic.
I think your character has captured the grieving process here. It's a powerful piece of writing and the line 'Reality of the imagination is the mirror of my thoughts.' Wow!
This is awesome. Your choice of words could not be better.
oh, man!
I've been in that attic. a few times.
wonderful
thanks
Very imaginative. Speaking straight from the mind.
Definitely prose. It would have been a fabulous piece to discuss point of view, back in college.
wow!
Absolutely creative and deep.
Keshi.
This is very moving, a real capture of human emotion.
Is the attic the room where arrangements are made for you, without your knowledge, or where you are sent for contesting them?
Poetry.
That it is in the mode of prose (versus verse) works nicely here!
Wonderful! Very imaginative. Thank you.
It is a sad post.
A well written post.
In the book I never wrote, you are forbidden teritory...I'd start a book with this sentence.
To me, it sounds like a dream, or a half dream, one you can hardly tell from reality.
beautifully sad...
HI Gautami....I like the short concise sentences. It gives the piece a definate mood.
I'm with Annamari....you could use that line to begin a novel! :)
Such a sad feeling post. Perhaps at second look there is a small window in that attic, waiting to be opened...
This is definitely a porse poem!
"Looked at you. With closed eyes. Spoke to you with non-words."
Love this! And also the slurping tea!
Bravo! Very thoughtful.
I don't think it serves you right at all. Every human has things they've done wrong or had done to them, but to be locked up and frozen is not a punishment. Let yourself feel and be real and allow the past to unthaw.
"Out in the open is claustrophobic for me." That quote so reasonates with my life!
i like the last stanza/paragraph particularly well...
very strong description of a very painful place to be!
sad and touchy!
prose is so meshed..it hides the poetry...
loved reading it Gautami!
devika
"Regrets. What of it? Words I did say? Or the words you didn't hear? Does it matter? And in what form? Solidified?"
what a word play along the lines of regret..fantastic
So very sad. Powerful, yes, but very sad.
It only takes a few words to capture the gut wrenching truth within. BJ
In the book I never wrote, you are forbidden territory. (!)
What a sad end-of-love story. I understand it completely. Sometimes it is just that connection that you ask for in writing. Let somebody know that you feel like they do, and they in return let you know.
Wonderfully descriptive - the images and emotions are vividly portrayed! Super post!
Feels like you reached into my heart and pulled all of my pain and anguish out and spilt it onto the page! So real and raw. Captured the pain of lost love so very well. Great post!
Very powerful words! Well done.
Brilliant peace of work. Full of raw emotion.
All I can really say is "Wow!"
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